frt '/£ /J* Jcueu^ Alt 



Days In The East ; 



RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS 



GREECE, PALESTINE AND EGYPT. 



JOHN W. GREENWOOD, 
w 

RECTOR OF TRINITY CHURCH, OSHKOSH. 



PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 



PRINTED BY 
THE CLAREMONT MANUFACTURING CO. 
CLAREMONT, N. H. 

1885. 



GIFT 

BERTRAM SMfTH 



SEP I « 1933 



TO MY FATHER, 
These Simple Pages are Inscribe 
as a TtFkOT. 
□f Filial Esteem and Lave, 




PREFACE. 







This little volume has been written during the inter- 
vals of professional work, mainly to satisfy the expecta- 
tions of friends. The few leisure hours which could be 
employed upon it have obliged the author to forego all 
attempt at embellishment and to reduce the narrative to 
the simplest possible form. Should it become the source 
of interest and pleasure to others than those for whom it 
was especially prepared, he will feel all the better repaid 
for such labor as he has been able to bestow upon it. 




EE RATA. 

Pago 21, line 15. for "was" read "were". 

32, " 2, for "Elensis" read "Elensis". 
70, t; 10, lor '-gravity which" read "gravity with 
which". 

" 162. " 24. for "nine" read "ninety". 
" 250. " 10, for "ranges" read • -range". 

810, " 10. for "Mohammedan" read " Moham- 
medans". 

" 352, " 26. for "needs" read "need". 




TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

— 



PAGE. 



From Rome to Naples - 


1 


PUTEOLI AND BAIAE - 


8 


In and Around the Bay - 


12 


Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius 


18 


On the Way to Athens - 


24 


The "Eye of Greece" - 


- 30 


On Classic Heights - 


36 


Adieu to Athens - 


- - 41 


The Shores of the Levant 


44 


From Smyrna to Beyrout 


- 50 


First Glimpses of Syria 


56 


The Shadows of Lebanon 


- 63 


The Camp at Baalbec - 


72 


From Baalbec to Damascus 


76 


The "Pearl of the East" - 


82 


More of Damascus - - 


- 89 


Over the Slopes of Hermon 


94 


The Sea of Galilee - 


- 101 


Xazareth - 


107 


ESDRAELON AND ITS ClTIES 


- 113 


From Jenin to ISTablous - 


119 


Between Ebal and Gerizim 


- 124 


Patriarchal Memories - 


130 


The Descent from Bethel 


- 134 


The Jordan and the Dead Sea 


138 


In the Way to Jerusalem 


- 144 


From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate - 


150 



viii 



Table of Contents. 



Random Strolls in the Holy City - 160 

The "Lyric of a Xation's Woe" - - - 172 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre - - 181 

Sacred Sites 187 

Temple and Mosque - 197 

El-Aksa 204 

Outside the Walls - 209 

The Circuit Completed 214 

The Cradle of the Founder - - - - 222 

Down to Jaffa - 229 

A Home Among the Orange Groves - - - 237 

Ramleh and Lydda - - - - 247 

Christmas-Eve at Bethlehem - 252 

A Mountain Eide - . - - - 264 

Through Dreary Regions - - - - 275 

Hoary Old Hebron - - - - - 28] 

As Far as Beit-Jibrin - 292 

The Land of the Philistines - 298 

Cities of the Past - 308 

Farewell to Jaffa - - - - - 318 

The Home of the Pharaohs - - - - 328 

Cairo and the Pyramids 333 

Pome ward Bound - 345 




DAYS IN THE EAST. 



o . 

FROM ROME TO NAPLES. 

One bright September morning in 1883, I took an early 
train at Rome and was soon speeding southward over 
the Campagna toward Naples. It was the beginning of 
an achievement to which I had long and anxiously looked 
forward, the fulfilment of a great hope. I had now be- 
fore me a pilgrimage to the homes of Grecian sages, of 
patriarchs, prophets and apostles, of mighty Pharaohs 
who were already in their tombs ere Greece and Palestine 
were known. During the previous weeks my appetite 
had only been whetted by the cloud of uncertaint\ r which 
the cholera in Eg} T pt and quarantine in the Levantine 
ports, had cast over such an expedition. Communica- 
tion in the East was disturbed. Dismal rumors were 
afloat. The disease apparently disappeared only to raise 
the traveler's hopes and then broke out afresh. There 
were few candidates for the regulation tourist parties, and 
private arrangements for Oriental travel could be made 
only in much doubt and difficulty. Under the circum- 
stances I was very glad to fall in at Rome with the Rev. 
Mr. D of Massachusetts, who, like myself, was will- 



2 



Days in the East. 



ing to make the attempt at all hazards rather than give 
it up. perhaps, forever. He had therefore gone on to 
Naples to make inquiries, leaving me in the meanwhile to 
pursue my observations in Eome. My own present 
movement toward Xaples was in response to the telegram 
I had received from him the night before. "All en- 
couraging, come on I" 

We sped swiftly along, close beside the Via Appia, the 
road whereon Paul came to Eome. For the first few min- 
utes our way lay among the broken acqueducts and scat- 
tered ruins of the Campagna, and always in full view of 
the glorious Alban hills, which I had learned to love and 
reverence during my residence in Rome, as I sat on the 
steps of S. John Lateran, or loitered in front of the 
church, over the delightful walking ground of the Me- 
diaeval popes. A due regard to the scope and conditions 
of my tale alone prevents me from expatiating, as so many 
travelers have done, upon the charms of Italian scenery 
in the neighborhood of Rome, for every visitor certainly 
owes it his testimony. We passed Albano nestling mid 
vines and olives on its slopes of regal beauty, and high 
Agnagni famous for having been a favorite residence of 
the popes. Farther on sat Aquino on its mountain-stream, 
the birth-place of Juvenal, as well as of Thomas Aquinas 
— the u Angelic Doctor" of the Roman Church. Present- 
ly my heart smote me as we ran under the commanding 
height of Monte Casino and I caught a glimpse of Bene- 
dict's proud monastery on the top ; for it was a gem which 
my inability to tarry compelled me to lose from my dia- 
dem of places. It is, however, some slight consolation 
to the traveler to recall, as he stops for a moment in full 
view of it at the little station, the allusion of Dante in 
the twenty-seventh canto of his Paradise to this famous 
retreat founded u with prayers and fasting." Then came 



From Rome to Naples. 



3 



modern Capua, the last place of importance on the line 
and lying not far from the site of that ancient city around 
whose ruins twine the memories of Hannibal and Spar- 
tacus. Throughout the journey the scenery had been 
grand and softly picturesque by turns, the sublimity of 
the cloud-wreathed Apennines always however being 
within near range of vision. As we approached Naples 
the fields and vineyards assumed the milder softness of 
the South. Luscious fruits and vegetables of ample growth 
spoke of plenty and abundance. The clusters of grapes 
grew richer and richer. More decided symptoms of the 
dolce far niente spirit seemed to pervade the visible pop- 
ulation. And it was not long before I had a full view 
from the window on my left of an old acquaintance, yet 
now seen in person for the first time. It was Vesuvius, 
its bosom heaving among the low-lying clouds and its 
sable plume of smoke rolling downward and backward 
from its lofty summit. 

On arriving at Naples, I found on further inquiries that 
the tone of my companion's telegram had been somewhat 
too sanguine. The quarantine was still in force all along 
the Syrian coast. There was a mere chance of its being 
taken off in time to allow us to complete our proposed 
round, including Egypt. We must start in uncertaint}-, 
but that was better than not to start at all. We there- 
fore laid out our plan of travel and took tickets accord- 
ingly. In Palestine our trip covered only the "short 
tour" to Jerusalem, Jordan and the Dead Sea, and was 
to end in Naples again sometime in December. To an- 
ticipate a little, we afterwards met an organized party at 
Beyrout with whom we found it possible to take the "long 
tour" through Palestine ; while I myself was unexpected- 
ly favored with the opportunity of seeing Philistia also. 
But long after the last of our original party had returned 



4 Days in the East. 

to Europe by the way they came, I found myself still 
waiting at Jaffa, in the middle of February, for the steam- 
ers to resume communication with Port Said. 

Our arrangements delayed us nearly two weeks in Na- 
ples, a soiled city set in a natural paradise. In spite of 
our impatience to be fairly en route to the East, we were 
not loth to linger amid such charms of nature as few 
other regions in Europe can boast. The bold dark form 
of Vesuvius stands a sentinel over the loveliest bay in 
the world, a mirror reflecting at even-tide the roseate 
hues of such sunsets as are paralleled nowhere else. 
Here, when the day is almost done, one learns the sig- 
nificance of an Italian sky. Crimson clouds mantle the 
bluest of waters. The softest haze veils the hills. The 
black breath of the volcano mingles dreamily with the 
cloud of vapor on its summit. And if you are on the 
grand drive, the palms in the park give a tropical air to 
the scene ; while, in lively appreciation of it all, are the 
opulent owners— for Naples is a resort of fashion — of 
some of the finest horses and carriages of Europe. The 
beautiful green point of Posilipo where Pollio, the epicure 
once fed his fish with slaves ; the picturesque tongue of 
land beyond Sorrento, clothed in verdure and villas, each 
winding around and pointing you to the dark and ever- 
fascinating outlines of Capri, were among the conspic- 
uous points of beauty which greeted us every morning as 
we stepped out into the fresh air upon the balcony of our 
hotel and every evening as we strolled along the Molo. 

But it is not a part of my story to linger over Naples, 
a place which has alwa} r s had its fair share of writing. 
They told us that the city was not as dirty as it used to 
be. But, were such a thing possible in its inland sea, it 
would still need the double sweep of a tidal wave, rush- 
ing far up its background of hills and recoiling with ac- 



From Rome to Naples. 



5 



cumulated vigor, to clear it of its filth and pollutions and 
make it tolerable to eye and nostril. Rare as its clean 
streets, are apparently the unspotted characters of its 
public servants. It has the reputation, I believe, of be- 
ing the most dishonest city in Europe, Paris even not 
excepted, and certainly only a casual observation is 
needed to see how the unwary traveler is here fleeced at 
every corner. Except its admirable museum, none of its 
details especially interested me. Like Rome it has over 
three hundred churches, though none are famous save 
the cathedral and two or three others. In the former is 
the chapel of S. Januarius containing the phials of lique- 
fying blood. If the story be true that in spite of the pre- 
vious protests of the priests, the threatened bombardment 
of the city onee produced a liquefaction to order, the fact 
has in nowise discouraged the faith of the Neapolitan 
public in the miracle. One morning, as I sat over my 
coffee, my eye fell upon an item in a local paper which 
recounted how, " after sixteen minutes of fervent prayer 
the day before, the blood of our glorious and principal 
patron, S. Gennaro had liquefied in the presence of a nu- 
merous and pious congregation." 

But if one has little taste for the crowded, picturesque 
streets of the city with their slippery lava pavements and 
their people so careless and joyous and yet so squalid and 
ignorant, he can richly compensate himself by making 
some of the lovely excursions in the neighborhood. First 
he can ascend to the castle of S. Elmo, frowning from its 
lofty cliff and think over its associations with stories of 
love and daring. Purposing one afternoon to visit the 
interesting old church of San Martino perched beside the 
castle, we toiled up a long street with frequent flights of 
stairs, such a street as I saw nowhere else but at Naples. 
In its wretched little booths, fruits, whose names and 



6 



Days in the East, 



forms were alike strange to me, were exposed for sale. 
Groups of dirty children sat at the sides and in the mid- 
dle of a roadway where donkeys alone could climb and 
carriages could not go. Companies of greasy men played 
with greasier cards in front of open doorways. Females 
with black fingers sat out on the payement cracking wal- 
nuts while there, at the top of one of the flights, was 
posed a soiled maiden playing a tambourine. We pushed 
our way through more than one flock of ugly goats each 
with its bell tinkling monotonously as the animals were 
driyen slowly down the street oyer the numerous steps 
and inclines, stopping eyery now and then as they went, 
to browse upon the heaps of refuse swept away into the 
corners. Such was the aspect of this street in Naples on 
a Sunday afternoon. At last after a long and weary 
climb we reached the top of the ascent. Here to our 
dismay we found the church closed and were unable to 
effect an entrance, but we soon forgot our disappoint- 
ment in the indescribable beauty of the yiew we thence 
obtained of mountain, city, isle and sea. Of the scenery 
of the bay of Naples the half has not been told us. The 
eye alone can realize what the pen can hardly hope ever 
to portray. 

And more than once we strolled through the dark grot- 
to of Posilipo — a strange sort of tunnel pushed through 
the mountain for half a mile in length and from twenty - 
five to sixty-nine feet high. It is said to date from the 
time of Nero. At its nearer end a monk of the Francis- 
can order has a caye whence he issues to beg an alms of 
passers by ; while, about half way through, is a rude 
chapel hewn in one side, the fitful glimmer of whose al- 
tar tapers breaks the gloom and startles the traveler as 
his carriage rolls past over the hard blocks of lava. On 
the height just above the eastern entrance is the so-called 



From Rome to Naples. 



7 



tomb of Virgil to which one day, after some perseverance 
and a hard climb, I at last gained admission. It is an 
old chamber about fifteen feet square, with two small 
windows. The top, access to which is had by an old 
flight of stone steps, is covered with a rank growth of 
grass and weeds. There were eight or ten niches in the 
sides for cinerar} 7 vessels and in one of them an urn which, 
on undertaking to lift it, I found of considerable weight. 
Virgil had a villa here in which he wrote the Eclogues 
and the Georgics. Though dying at Brindisi, B. C. 19, 
he was buried at Naples in compliance with his dying 
wish, and the balance of evidence goes to show that this 
tomb once contained the ashes of the poet. This, then, 
was where stood the second milestone on the Puteolan 
way. At any rate, since Petrarch had had faith enough 
to come here and plant a laurel, I yielded myself to un- 
qualified belief in the tradition and bore away a sprig of 
flowers in tender memory of the classic bard. Here, too, I 
would have tarried and thought at leisure of him with whom 
Mantua blessed the world, but the traveler who thinks to 
indulge at will the pleasures of reflection as he goes, 
reckons without his cicerone. Sentiment, alas, soon flies 
before the annoyances which beset the path of the modern 
tourist, annoyances which will down only by cramming 
the wolf's mouth with gold until he has no breath to 
spare. One almost despises himself for noticing these 
insignificant flies which drop hour by hour into the pre- 
cious ointment of his satisfaction ; but it is in truth no 
pleasant road to walk about the world upon the out- 
stretched palms of beggars. Here, besides paying double 
the guide book tariff for il padrone, I had invitations to 
fee three other persons, contrary to the printed notice, 
who insisted on furthering in their respective degrees my 
simple undertaking. 



PUTEOLI AND BAIAE. 



At the father end of the grotto of Posilipo we took the 
steam tram to Pozzuoli, the ancient Pnteoli of S. Paul's 
sojourn on his way to Rome. The road is laid for the 
most part beside the sea, of which it commands man}' a 
picturesque view. We visited the cathedral in the an- 
cient little city whose steep streets look as if they had 
not been swept since they echoed to the tread of the 
apostle's feet. Not so the interior of the church, however, 
which was neat and clean. It stands on the site and is 
in part built of the remains of a temple of Augustus, the 
tops of whose broken columns and capitals are easily 
seen along the outside walls. As we stood within — a 
bridal party — the bride rather carelessly attired in white 
shawl and dress of lavender stuff, entered the cathedral ; 
but, followed by a troop of staring, dirty children, they 
soon went out again and into another door in the court 
which was closed upon the rabble. In these sleep}' old 
towns, with their simple and crowded populations, a 
wedding or a funeral seems to be a matter of quite as 
common interest as it is in the country villages of 
America. 

Here in Pozzuoli we saw among other ruins the remains 
of- that amphitheatre in whose arena Nero indulged his 
propensity to bring his crown into contempt on every pos- 
sible occasion and fought as a common gladiator. There 



Puteoli and Baiae. 



9 



also the wild beasts are said to have refused as victims 
S. Januarius and his friends thrown to them by command 
of Diocletian. At every step in this delightful region 
one sets his foot on classic soil. A short walk brought 
us to the extinct volcano of the Solfatara, fabled in olden 
time as the forum of Vulcan. The ground everywhere 
around us seemed to be hollow. Our guide three times 
lifted a heavy stone high above his head and flung it 
with all his force upon the trembling shell of turf. The 
sound was deep and fearful as if we were standing upon 
the thin and resonant crust of some fathomless cavern. 
We walked across the crater, which is now merely an 
oval plain surrounded by broken hills, to where an open- 
ing at the other side was still belching forth its cloud of 
dense sulphurous steam. Far in was the sound of sis- 
sing, as of boiling water, and a small piece of lighted 
paper held at the mouth of the cave produced an im- 
mense mass of smoke. The hot breath filled my eyes, 
mouth and nostrils and half-suffocated me, but I was 
fain to be comforted with the assurance that it was 
"good for the health." All around us the ground echoed 
to the tread of our feet and seemed warm and hollow in 
every direction. As we returned, we picked up some 
loose earth which we found too hot to handle ; but in the 
immediate neighborhood some fine sprigs of myrtle were 
growing, several of which we bore away as trophies. 
There are baths established here and at them, before de- 
parting, we drank a small glass of the mineral water of 
Solfatara — the best I ever tasted — clear, pungent and 
delightful. 

Finding our way back to the shores of the bay of 
Baiae, we began to pick out some of the historic features 
in the lovely view before us. There, stretching out to- 
ward the opposite side of ancient Baiae, was the immense 



10 



Days in the East, 



mole, or pont, constructed by Caligula to facilitate com- 
munication with this great resort of Roman nobles in the 
clays of imperial splendor, owing to its beauty of situa- 
tion, fair scenery and mineral springs. A little to the 
right along the road were the reputed remains of Cicero's 
villa and beyond it, hidden among the hills, lay the fa- 
mous lake Avernus. On the occasion of our second visit 
to Pozzaoli we made our way to this lake and found it 
a fine, but rather sombre sheet of water about one hun- 
dred sixty feet deep. But although ''Avernus" signified 
that no bird dare approach the lake, this dark and sol- 
itary sheet of water is, in these latter days, the haunt of 
wild duck and other aquatic fowls. Hither it is said 
Hannibal came to sacrifice to Pluto. TTe walked along 
the margin toward the Sibyl's grotto which we found 
closed by two old wooden doors at the bottom of some 
stone steps. Forewarned of the inconvenience of ex- 
ploration we did not, spite of the importunities of our 
cicerone, enter this appropriate avenue by which Aeneas 
found his way to the infernal regions ; especially as the 
prosy criticism of modern times has decided that it is 
probably nothing but one of the tunnels of Agrippa to 
connect the lake with Cumae and Baiae. We therefore 
now pursued our journey to the latter place in order to 
return thence to Pozzuoli over the beautiful waters of the 
bay so justly celebrated by Horace. But before entering 
the little town, we ascended through a vineyard to the 
top of a neighbouring hill, where, to a luncheon of warm 
brown bread, fried eggs and very fair wine, all from an 
Italian peasant's house, we united the enjoyment of one 
of the loveliest views I ever beheld. Its leading features 
were, on one side, mountain, crater, ruined temples and 
ancient sites ; on the other, the beautiful sapphire of 
the broad Mediterranean with a part of ill-fated Ischia 



Puteoli and Baiae. 



rising from its sparkling bosom. To the west once lay 
the ancient Cumae whose ruins now cover the tombs of 
three races, one Roman, one Greek and one so old as to 
be unknown, and near which the great Scipio Africanus 
breathed his last. Below us toward the sea, were spread 
the Elysian Fields of the ancients and there, to the south, 
lay Misenum on whose cape the trumpeter of Aeneas 
found a tomb and in whose port Caesar Augustus, Mark 
Antony and Pompey met to divide the empire of Rome. 
Beneath and in front was Baiae, once so licentious and 
dissolute, the home of Caesar, Pompey, Marius and others 
whose names figure illustriously in classic story. This 
was the place which Horace is said to have preferred to 
all other places in the world, but which the austere and 
noble Seneca warned ever}' prudent and moderate man 
to avoid. Thither says Martial, Roman matrons went 
with the reputation of Penelope, and left it with that of 
Helen. Nor was it less notorious for its crimes than 
its immoralities. Within the immediate neighborhood 
the monster Nero plotted the destruction of his mother 
and put it into execution ; and here also the emperor 
Hadrian starved himself to death. We glanced for a 
few moments over these outspread pages of Roman his- 
tory and were sorry to find that, notwithstanding our 
keen interest, the afternoon was fast advancing and we 
could not tarry longer. Going clown, we were rowed 
across to Pozzuoli where, before taking the train home- 
ward, we lingered for a while in a neat church, curiously 
examining some votive arms and legs which appeared to 
be made of light, thin wax — the oiferings of a simple and 
childlike people. They had been hung up by red and 
blue ribbons at sundry side chapels, evidently as testi- 
monials to the Saints of certain miraculous cures due to 
their intercession. 



IN AND AROUND THE BAY. 



The excursions in and around the bay of Naples are 
universally conceded to be among the finest in the world. 
The whole region is a paradise of loveliness. The only 
defacements upon nature's work are those made by the 
squalor and inefficiency of man. Now and then, howev- 
er, nature herself seems to frown upon her own smiling 
domain and even hides her beneficence behind the terri- 
ble power of the volcano and the earthquake. The long 
intervals of sweet repose are forever darkened by the 
shadow of some coming catastrophe and multitudes of 
thoughtless creatures eat, drink and sleep over their own 
graves. 

We took the steamer at nine one pleasant morning for 
the Island of Ischia, several light-hearted Italians making 
music for us as we sped along. Vesuvius, Capri and the 
beautiful bay all wore their gayest and most smiling air 
and made one shudder all the more to think of the insid- 
iousness of this "Eden of Italy" with its lurking possibil- 
ities. For although a solemn shadow of warning seems 
forever hanging over the landscape the whole region is 
indeed the most beantiful by far of any that I have ever 
seen. 

Ischia itself, with its towering peak of Monte Epomeo, 
is one of the grandest features of the scene ; although the 
island is not visible from the city of Naples. • As we 



In and Around the Bay. 1 3 



neared the landing-place at Casamicciola, we could easi- 
ly distinguish the ruins on the shore. And embracing 
as the j did the whole of a large town, they fairly surpass- 
ed any description that words can convey. The little 
city will soon, however, be rebuilt. An occasional earth- 
quake is here a matter-of-course and it was only two or 
three years ago that Casamicciola had an experience al- 
most as melancholy as that of July in 1883. On landing 
and ascending into the town we beheld before us a strange 
scene of desolation. On each side of street after street 
were confused heaps of broken walls, tottering stone 
fences, piles of rocks, mortar and plaster, all miscella- 
neously tumbled together. Doors were half battered out 
by the crushing mass of rubbish which had fallen against 
them from within. Iron railings lay around broken and 
twisted into every conceivable shape. Inside and outside 
of these ruined compartments, thus laid open on all sides 
to the wind and weather, lay remnants of damaged fur- 
niture and many other tokens of thoroughly desolated 
homes. In one house, high up in the second story cham- 
bers, quite inaccessible from the rubbish and with one 
side torn completely away, we saw pictures hanging on 
the walls and lace curtains fluttering at the windows — the 
same as when in use months before. In another place 
I stepped in to see where a mass of falling stone and 
plaster from the loose, crazy roof — just the kind for an 
earthquake to sport with — had broken a great circular 
hole through each of the two floors beneath. A conspic- 
uous ruin was that of the loftily-situated Grand Hotel des 
Etrangers of whose badly shattered remains an artist was, 
at the time of our visit, making a study in oil. Here and 
there refuge had been taken by the homeless people un- 
der an old piece of black canvas, in a board cabin, or 
sometimes simply under the shelter of the trees. There 



Days in the East. 



were plenty of beggars, old and young, men, women and 
children, wandering about. One little fellow, pointing 
me to a mass of damaged wall and arches open to the 
sky, cried piteously : "La mia Casa! La mia Casa!" 
But the most sadly suggestive sights of all were the great 
number of rude wooden crosses set up amid the debris at 
every turn, and sometimes four or five in a single group, 
to mark the places where the dead had lain. In an 
apartment of which the front wall had been shaken down 
one of these crosses stood in the mass of rubbish which 
partially covered an iron bedstead on which the sleeper 
had evidently met his death. And all this ruin and des- 
olation in the midst of a smiling and apparently peaceful 
region of palm-vines, fig-trees and pomegranates, a place 
where ripening and luscious fruits hung all around over 
the garden walls upon whose face the lizard now ran un- 
noticed and undisturbed ! 

We went down into the bagni or baths, with their shat- 
tered and broken columns. The hot springs which are 
the leading attractions of the place were still active, and 
I could hardly bear with my naked hand the severe heat 
of the water. The mineral springs of Ischia were famous 
of old and it has been stoutly maintained that these baths 
can cure all curable disorders. The old Romans who 
had villas in and around Naples, are said to have 
held the bathing establishments of Casamicciola in as high 
favor as that in which they are held at the present day ; 
but how many earthquakes came up against them to mar 
their satisfaction is one of the secrets of history. 

Another day we went by water to Capri, calling at 
Sorrento amid its delightful environs of mountain, sea 
and orange-grove. We sped again through the beautiful 
blue water in the softest of atmospheres. How magnifi- 
cent the hills, the plains of Herculaneum and Pompeii, 



In and Around the Bay. 1 5 



the indescribable azure overhead, Isehia, Procida, reced- 
ing Naples and its shores ! To try to describe so fair a 
region and such lovely prospects inevitably means ex- 
haustion to all the adjectives. In sharp contrast with 
the white-caps and whistling wind of the thunder-storm 
which I witnessed early on the following day, peace and 
stillness reigned over the bay on the morning of our ex- 
cursion and enhanced its wonted glories. 

Sorrento is cool and lovely, as a summer retreat, with 
gardens crowning its cliffs and stairs descending to the 
water's edge. This was the birthplace of Tasso, beneath 
whose oak in the monastery garden of San Onofrio at 
Rome, I had, like most travelers, contrived to sit for a 
few moments in meditation. How insignificant after all 
are the charms of these foreign parts, aside from their 
historical and literary associations ! To be sure, the 
scenery of nature is much. But an American need not 
go so far for that. He can find grand landscapes at home. 
What he cannot find at home are places and things which 
at once impart to history, biography and fiction a new 
and fascinating reality. This is the real charm of foreign 
travel. It is a genuine pleasure to be able to sit down to 
your morning cup of coffee at the old Cafe Creco in Rome 
and remember, over your smoking draught, that it was 
one of the very haunts of old " Beefsteak" in Story's 
u Roba di Roma." The moonlit waters of Trevi and the 
ancient Hilda's tower, upon whose top the lamp still burns 
where ever^- one may see it, in the Via Portoghese, ac- 
quire a tenfold interest if you are able to recall the scenes 
of "The Marble Faun." Like these there are a thou- 
sand delights for the reader of fiction only ; while for him 
who is up in the history of persons and places, the name 
of such associations is legion. Even now the memories 
of Mrs. Stowe's " Agnes " came to mind from pages long 



i6 



Days in the East. 



since read and till now forgotten, especially when some 
priests, one of whom was venerable and kindly, came 
aboard here on our return voyage. 

Crossing the strait we anchored for a few moments off 
Capri where the water was so very still as to banish all 
unpleasant recollections of those sudden gusts of wind 
which make the region dangerous, and then steamed for 
the blue grotto. About high noon we entered it stoop- 
ing, four or five in a boat. At first it seemed quite dark 
and small, but as the eye grew accustomed to the light 
we could better realize the proportions of the cavern. 
It is one hundred fifty feet long, by one hundred broad 
and forty feet high. As for the water, it is a supremely 
beautiful and dazzling blue, turning the immersed oar- 
blades to its own sumptuous color. A boatman stripped 
and plunged in and while his grizzly beard, matted hair 
and face were turned to a negro color, his bod}' and limbs 
were transformed into a figure of shining silver. 

Gorgeous is the blue, and surpassing the beauty of the 
grotto. We left it reluctantly and went back to the 
anchoring-ground, but my companion and I remained on 
board while the rest went ashore for luncheon, so that 
our own feet did not touch Capri. Having partaken of 
such refreshment as the vessel itself afforded, I sat quiet- 
ly on deck scanning the shores with my perspective glass ; 
now listening to the singing which came floating over 
from the beach, or the less melodious strains of some 
half-naked boys in the boats beneath the steamer ; now 
reviewing the history of the picturesque island before me. 
On it once stood the famous palaces and villas of Augus- 
tus and Tiberias, the remnants of the castle of the latter 
being yet visible on the most commanding peak of the 
whole island. This was one of the principal places of re- 
sort of that wicked prince and the senate did him small 



In and Around the Bay. 



17 



injustice after his death in ordering his edifices destroyed. 
As we started back to Naples, the bold, bare headlands 
below Sorrento came grandly into view with a white sail 
or two glistening against them in the blue water. High 
upon an hillside we spied a long reddish convent placed, 
as such buildings usually are, to command some of the 
loveliest prospects of the earth. No doubt it is as much 
of a pleasure to the inmates to have them so, as it is a 
credit to their good sense, and it is surely a compensation 
which we cannot begrudge them. The whole scene was 
an inspiration to the pencil, and my own heart went out 
longingly toward one of the old square stone towers which, 
here and there, crowned rocky points jutting out into the 
sea. 



POMPEII AND MOUNT VESUVIUS. 



As a matter of course we went both to Pompeii and to 
the top of Vesuvius. Every traveler does so and many 
a traveler has recounted his experience, a consideration 
which will serve at this point to lighten my own labors. 
We started early one morning for Pompeii, taking a third 
class carriage, "just for the experience," and were an- 
noyed nearly all the way by traveling performers, first 
with the screeching accordeon and next with indifferent 
displays of sleight-of-hand, each exhibition being follow- 
ed by an ingathering of gratuities. At last, in company 
with an American resident in the Himalayas and his fam- 
ily, we disembarked at Pompeii and were assigned a guide 
who spoke English very tolerably for one of his profession. 
We entered the i; city of the dead" through what was an- 
ciently the Porta Marina. How oppressive in their silence 
are the empty gates, streets and houses of this city disin- 
terred — -a sight so strange that one searches the world in 
vain for its parallel ! Here was a punishment like that of 
Sodom, sent upon a people from whose homes modesty 
and virtue long had fled. No foot-fall, save that of the 
stranger, is now heard in those hard and narrow streets ; 
but there were the deep ruts worn eighteen centuries ago 
by the wretched slaves who drew the chariots over the 
lava pavements. There, still, the stepping-stones at the 
crossings and the drinking trough at the corner. There 



Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. 19 



the bake-houses and wine-houses, the baths and temples ; 
but all now desolate and without occupant. The dwell- 
ings, each with its own perfect and complete apartments, 
sometimes with beautifully decorated wall and ceilings, 
still stand there in aw T ful silence. 

Pompeii, partty ruined by an earthquake in 63 A. D., 
was abandoned and then reoccupied, only to be finally 
destroyed by the eruption in 99. At that time Pliny the 
elder lost his life in Stabiae and Pliny the younger de- 
scribes the terrible scene he had witnessed. All traces, 
however, both of Herculaneum and Pompeii were lost for 
more than sixteen hundred 3'ears and were accidentally 
discovered only in the last century. As only a small num- 
ber of skeletons were found, it is concluded that many of 
the inhabitants were enabled to escape the entombing 
flight of ashes. In the "Street of Tombs" is the villa of 
Diomede where were discovered the remains of seventeen 
persons, among them those of the owner and his attend- 
ant with the keys of the villa and a purse of gold and sil- 
ver coins in their hands. The house of the Faun which, if 
I remember rightly, was brought to light in the presence 
of Goethe's son, furnished the Naples Museum with the 
splendid mosaic of the battle of Issus. On the threshold 
of this house also, once lay the well-known Mosaic dog 
with the motto "Cave canem." I shall not even attempt 
to describe the multitude of interesting sights to whicfct 
we were thus introduced, some of them bearing indisputa- 
ble testimony to the public depravity as well as civiliza- 
tion of the day. Before going through the cit} r , we had 
visited a museum near the gate, in which were lava en- 
crusted bodies of men and women, a boy, recentty dis- 
covered, and a dog writhingin his last agony, their yellow 
bones gleaming in places through their dark stiff shrouds. 
There were also, among numerous other curiosities, a 



20 



Days in the East. 



6hawl of which we could see the woof and fringe, black 
loaves of bread, fragments of iron window gratings and 
locks, and various vessels. There could hardly be a bet- 
ter lesson in Roman domestic life at the beginning of the 
Christian era than a careful visit to this curious resurrec- 
tion with its priceless treasures. 

From Pompeii we took a guide and horses and started 
out over a hot, dusty road to ascend Vesuvius. Nearly 
all the way we could see, in front of us, the dense cloud 
of thick white and yellow smoke issuing against the blue 
sky. Our road lay through vineyards bearing luscious 
clusters of black and white, the grapes being the largest 
I had seen anywhere in Italy. At an inn where we 
paused for rest a bottle of very sweet amber wine was 
brought me under the name of Lachryma Christi ; but, 
spite of the guide's indignation at my skepticism, I did 
not swallow the assurance with the wine. Of D's teetota- 
lism he said with a melange of English and Italian, "wine 
good. Acquafa mail" All the way to the base we were 
assaulted, at intervals, by beggars, big and little, one of 
the latter being stark naked. Arrived at the more toil- 
some portion of the ascent, we found ourselves struggling 
through the thick layer of ashes which were strewn all 
around. We were now getting up considerably from the 
base which is fertile and studded with houses and villages 
having a numerous population and yielding three crops a 
year. Yet here, as in Ischia and other portions of this 
treacherous region, its people are, as it were, living over 
graves. 

The last vegetation which we passed was some stunted 
trees. At this point the rascally guide would have ended 
our climb by pursuading us that he had finished his con- 
tract which was, nevertheless, to take us to the top. 
But we insisting, he soon started on again while a set of 



Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. 2 1 



men — who hoped for a job when we should dismount and 
begin the ascent of the crater on foot — followed us closely, 
helping themselves up by the horses' tails. Still on, 
over ashes and scoriae, the poor beasts toiled, till at last 
we left them tied, and set off on foot to climb to the cra- 
ter. I was assisted by a strap passed over the shoulder 
of a man in front ; but it was a fearful climb. Up we 
struggled, in ashes half way to the knee at every step, 
and yet farther on, over mighty fields of black and flow- 
ing lava o\\\y two weeks since exuded from the bosom of 
the volcano and still smoking. My heart jumped. The 
perspiration rolled from every pore. My knees trembled 
under me. I was obliged to rest frequent]} 7 . It was an 
experience for a life time, never to be repeated. At last 
we reached the crater around which was strewn thick in- 
crustations of sulphur. How shall I describe it? There 
was unusual activity in the volcano. Every now and 
then there would be a sound as of thunder. The moun- 
tain trembled under us and a shower of red-hot stones 
flew up into the air. We advanced until the} 7 fell behind 
us, as near the edge as it was possible to go. We peered 
through the thickly rising vapors into the awful, yawning 
cavern. Infernal shades, what a sight! I drew back, 
but the guide held me by the arm. Surely there could 
be nothing like it save the mouth of another A f olcano like 
itself. There was a stiff breeze, luckily blowing away 
from us, and the smoke rolled off grandly toward the 
sea. As we retired, our guide imbedded a soldo in a 
fragment of lava just thrown out and it was soon almost 
red-hot. After cooling, it was carried off as a souvenir 
by my companion. The views which we had, going 
down, were like so many others around Naples, inde- 
scribably grand and sublime. We descended to Torre 
Annunziata, and took the train again for Naples. The 



Days in the East. 



sunset hues were gilding land and water as we rolled 
homeward along the edge of the bay. Capri and Ischia 
stood grandly forth. The shore- la}' in all the pietur- 
esqueness of tower and belvidere and fishermen's nets 
stretching out into the water. The pomegranates were 
pendent over the garden walls. Fruits and vegetables, 
hung out to dry, adorned the outside of many a door and 
window ; while the coming crop was being irrigated, both 
by women and mules, under whose manipulation the well- 
sweeps were doing active duty. That night, after dark, 
it was a double satisfaction to see as we did the lurid fires 
of Vesuvius flaming forth at short intervals across the 
bay. What a majestic and yet what a terrible and dan- 
gerous neighbor for Naples is the great volcano ! 

At last the time came for us to leave the city of Par- 
thenope, so beautiful for situation. One day we bade 
adieu to the park and the children with their goat carts, 
as well as to the old monk in rather unsavory garments, 
who, as we sat and read, would come up to us and beg a 
soldo for the love of S. Francesco. At dusk we drove 
to the railway station and were soon snugly ensconced 
in one of the carriages of the night express for Brindisi. 
We traveled all that night and all the next day beside 
the sapphire plain of the Adriatic, and through many a 
town which has a name in history. We passed Barletta 
with its memories of king Manfred and Chevalier Bay- 
ard, the knight "sans peur et sans reproche" who once 
fought here in tournament. And Bari, where Pope Ur- 
ban would have healed with his council the ever-widening 
breach between the Greek and Roman Churches. In the 
grey dawn, we saw peasants, trooping thus early to their 
toil, across an apparently barren plain. At noon, we 
were in a region of fruitful vines, prone beneath their 
purple clusters, and oleanders flaming with their brilliant 



Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. 



buds. Then caine groves of almond and olive, whose 
gnarled and twisted trunks were a visible foretaste of the 
lands of Scripture, and at night-fall, we reached Brindisi, 
the ancient termination of the Appian way whither Hor- 
ace once made a journey in company with Macaenas. 
After a comfortable dinner at the Hotel Oriental we bade 
a temporary farewell to Italian soil and went on board 
the Austrian Lloyd steamer for Corfu. Here I was re- 
joiced to find that I was to share my stateroom, not with 
a foreigner, but with one of my own countrymen, Mr, 
Walter B., who was on his way to Athens for the pur- 
poses of study at the American college. My former 
companion, in accordance with his preferences, had tak- 
en up his quarters in the second cabin. For a long time 
we sat on deck and talked of the new world opening 
before us. The air, however, was quite cool and the 
steamer was not to sail until midnight. Before that hour 
we had turned in, blissfully anticipating the morrow's 
dawn which should reveal to us, in all their beauty and 
reality, 

■ The isles of Greece ! The isles of Greece, 
Where burning Sappho loved and sung!" 



ON THE WAY TO ATHENS. 



The next morning we found our vessel and ourselves 
in the teeth of a strong wind. The inevitable conse- 
quences ensued. I was able, however, to dress and go 
on deck whither my friend soon followed me. But there 
was neither dignity nor safet}*, except in a sitting pos- 
ture, which we immediately assumed. The white caps 
were hissing around us and the breeze came whistling 
tiercel}' along a rugged, rock-bound shore. Sure enough, 
there, at last, were the actual hills of classic Greece ! 
There was a boldness and sternness in their aspect such 
as I had seen nowhere else in Europe, an air decidedly 
Grecian, and suggestive of Grecian strength and inde- 
pendence. It was a sight for w r hich we had a keen relish, 
in spite of the malice of Neptune, and we enjoj'ed its 
variations until the middle of the afternoon when we 
came to anchor*in the harbor of Corfu. This is the larg- 
est of the Ionian isles, the ancient Corcjra, whereon 
stood the palace of Alcinous, where Nausicaa and Ulys- 
ses met and where the ship of the latter became a rock. 
By dint of patience we at last effected our transfer, 
which is done everywhere in the Levant by means of 
small boats, from the steamer to the wharf. Escaping 
the clutches of the rude and motley crowd which infests 
the quay and which we learned to expect and dread in 
every subsequent port of the East,, we soon found our 



On the Way to Athens. 



25 



way to the Hotel S. George, the best in the place, but 
with its own full share of mn-firmities. After putting 
ourselves in order, we began to explore the narrow 
streets of this queer little cit}', where everything is so 
utterly new and strange to Western eyes. Here was the 
Grecian costume, so suggestive of activity and daring, 
the red fez, short and full white skirt, the pointed shoes, 
the belt which was not without its weapons. Here were 
Greek priests — more wholesome looking than the Italians 
— with their high, round hats of black, with flowing 
beards and hair so luxuriant that in one or two cases it 
was coiled up at the back of the head like a woman's. 
Almost blockading the streets, were great heaps of fruit, 
piles of mammoth chestnuts, raw and roasted, prickly 
pears, yellow, juicy melons, grapes which moistened the 
tongue, with the very sight of their lovely colors, purple, 
red, white and black. We found our way out at last to 
the esplanade which skirts the shores of a little bay and 
affords sublime and striking views of classic hills and 
crystal waters. Opposite, hxy the bare, brown and for- 
bidding coast of Albania and we spent some moments 
standing in mute appreciation of the majesty and loveli- 
ness which nature still here puts on, as if to shame the 
modern and degenerate scions of a noble stock. 

The next day was Sunday and early in the morning I 
was awakened by the sharp and clattering peals of al- 
ternate church bells. The noisiest seemed to be those of 
the little cathedral of S. Spiridion, to which we resolved 
to go at eleven o'clock and witness our first Greek mass. 
We found the interior of the church to be like many a 
one which we saw afterwards at Athens, Smyrna, and 
Jerusalem and differing from the Latin churches in having 
neither crucifix nor images. There were, however, nu- 
merous pictures in relievo, richly framed and hung upon 



26 



Days in the East. 



the chancel screen. These, which were chiefly figures of 
the Lord and His Mother, the people kissed and rever- 
enced immediately on entering the church, their crossings 
and bowings being alike profound, frequent and im- 
pressive. Soon the altar curtain was withdrawn and an 
aged priest, vested in a chasuble of red and gold and 
with his long snow-white hair falling over his shoulders, 
began the service. No note of organ was heard, the sol- 
emn chant being grandly sung by a choir of long haired 
brethren who stood within the chancel rail. Then, amid 
the glare of lighted tapers and the smoke of incense, the 
holy books were brought out and kissed in the reverential 
presence of the congregation who diligently crossed them- 
selves with the triple sign. In like manner were brought 
forth for reverence, the Host and chalice, veiled with 
purple and brightly beaded stuff. It was very curious and 
interesting to see the children lifted up to press their little 
lips against the pictures and crossing themselves as did 
their elders. To one infant in its parent's arms I saw the 
priest administer the Eucharist in a golden spoon ; a 
practice of which I had read, but never before witnessed. 
Another little babe, at some stage of the service, was 
laid in its cushion upon the altar steps, as if for the pur- 
pose of dedication. After the benediction, all the faith- 
ful, both young and old, flocked around the priest who 
still stood near the altar and distributed small squares 
of the consecrated bread, each of the recipients kissing 
the back of the hand that ministered. 

At Corfu we first began to hear the modernized tongue 
of Homer used in common conversation and to read, 
under certain limitations, the public news in classic tj-pe. 
The pronunciation of the Greeks of to-day is, as I par- 
ticularly noticed, a totally different thing from that to 
which I was accustomed in the college class-room. 



On the Way to Athens. 



27 



On Monday afternoon we were again on board the 
steamer, en route to Athens. The boat belonged to a 
Greek line and had evidently been piously placed under 
Divine protection. For, at the end of the saloon below, 
hung one of those sacred pictures which in time become 
so familiar to the eastern tourist — a Triune Deity on 
golden ground, and in front of this, swung night and 
day an ever-burning lamp. It was a lovely evening aa 
we proceeded southward into the Ionian sea. The pur- 
ple shadows hovered over the ancient hills half veiling 
their rugged scars and seams. Here and there, upon the 
shore of its calm and lovely bay, lay some small white 
village, beautiful to the eye, although one soon learns how 
throughout all eastern regions u 'tis distance lends en- 
chantment to the view." Many a white sail danced upon 
the waters. And when at last the shades had fallen 
upon the balmy air, I took my seat on deck after dinner 
and watched the lights flashing faintly from the island 
shores, or the shadow of a passing sail falling like a spec- 
tre in the moonbeam's track. It was an evening for poet^ 
ry and recollection and my thoughts flew backward over 
five thousand miles of sea and land to the little group 
gathered around an American fireside. During the night 
we passed the birthplace of Sappho, "the tenth muse" 
and "rocky Ithaca," Ulysses' home. In the morning, as 
fair and paradisal as the eve had promised, we were just 
entering the gulf of Corinth, with the shores of Acar- 
nania and Etolia on one hand and those of old Achaia on 
the other. Over the hills of the latter the sun was just 
ascending, throwing his red rays far and wide and en- 
hancing the inspiration of the scene. Behind in the dis- 
tance we could yet descry Zante, Cephalonia and Ithaca. 
As I stood absorbed in thought — a Greek gentleman who 
had also become the master of a little French approached 



28 



Days in the East. 



me and pointed out a small town tying low along the op- 
posite shore. It was Missolonghi, immortalized by the 
deeds of Grecian heroes and sacred to the memory of 
Lord Byron who here succumbed to the ravages of the 
fever. What grand histories and recollections stood out 
all around in that rising morning mist ! The air was 
thick with stoiy, and I was not sorry to have a chance to 
digest the first courses of my precious feast within the 
rocky harbor of Patras where we soon cast an hour's 
anchor. This ancient city also has its fame. It was the 
only friend of Athens in the war with the Peloponnesus 
and, in more modern times, was the first to rise for Gre- 
cian independence. The castle still frowns from its lofty 
seat and in its harbor I notice several English vessels 
riding at anchor. 

Our somewhat sinuous course now lay between the 
verdant shores of the Corinthian gulf. Hence, every- 
thing, however insignificant, was lull of interest, for 
were we not in Greece? The low forts that stood guard 
over the broad roadstead, the birds that skimmed close 
upon the curling wave, the thin blue smoke ascending 
slowly from the glen whose sides were lined with dark 
green cypresses — all these things had a character of their 
own. Among the towns that here and there climbed 
half way up the rock}' steep, we saw at one point the an- 
cient Aegium, one of the chief cities of the Achaian 
League. Now we were sailing past the shores of Phocis, 
within whose borders the oracle at Delphi once directed 
the actions and fate of men. Toward evening we ar- 
rived at the isthmus where, in modern Corinth, we found 
but a meagre successor of that great city, now nearly 
obliterated, where Periander ruled and the great Apostle 
of the Gentiles wrought in Christian love for nearly two 
whole years. Disembarking, we took our places in a 



On the Way to Athens. 



29 



regular New York hack, the only thing of the kind I 
have ever ridden in, save on American soil. In this ve- 
hicle, of uncertain age, we rattled across the Isthmus 
over a dry and dusty road to Kalamaki where was await- 
ing us the steamer for the Piraeus. The scenery on the 
way was decided!}' monotonous — being made up almost 
wholly of sterile mountain sides and stunted fir-trees. 
It lasted but an hour, however, for the distance is only 
four miles. We were aboard the new steamer by five 
o'clock. It was much later when we started, and as the 
clouds were dark and threatening, nothing could be seen, 
not even the shores of Salamis. So I was fain to pass 
the evening parti}' in conversation with the chief engineer, 
an affable Scotchman who was glad to receive an English 
speaking guest into his little cabin ; partly at dinner and 
partly in a nap upon the sofa in the saloon. It was 
nearly midnight ere we dropped anchor at the Piraeus, 
the port for Athens. It was some time past that hour 
ere we could be rowed ashore and bury our weary selves 
in restful slumber at the hotel. 




THE "EYE OF GREECE/' 



The next morning we rose earl}', in spite of our fatigue, 
eager as we were to see Athens. A railway ride of seven 
miles separates it from its seaport. During this journey 
we caught glimpses across the plain of Lycabettus, Hy- 
mettus and especially the Acropolis still proudly sustain- 
ing the aged wrecks of some of man's noblest works. On 
arriving in the city our first business was to seek an hotel, 
which done, we started out to pay our first visit to the 
Acropolis. We climbed slowly to the summit of the rocky 
eminence, passing first under an old archway and then 
being admitted by the guide through a second gate into 
the ruins. As we entered there rose, straight before us, 
the Propylaea steps and above and to the right of us 
stood the wingless temple raised to Victory ere Pericles 
was born. Huge blocks of marble plentifully sprinkled 
the entire enclosure, still surrounded by the broken and 
crumbling walls of Cymon and Themistocles. We did 
not stop until we had reached the crowning feature, the 
matchless and historic Parthenon. Once its beautiful 
Doric columns glistened in their snow-whiteness and could 
be seen shining from afar, either on land or sea. Every 
Greek, as he looked upon it, must have recognized with 
pride the fitness of this sumptuous shrine of Minerva. 
For it was here that stood the monster statue of the god- 
dess, chiseled by Phidias after the battle of Marathon. 



The "Eye of Greece." 



31 



But now those once virgin columns are sere and brown 
with hoary age and sadly battered by the cannon-balls of 
the shameless Turk, whose shot-marks have left numerous 
traces in the broken flutings. On one of the steps of the 
cella I noticed, still lying, an old shell, one of those grim 
agencies of destroying man. The raven's croak is heard 
high overhead and the pillars faintly gleam through the 
mossy network which has overspread their fluted 
sides. The sole remnants of the fine marble frieze which 
once adorned the cella are one or two isolated and batter- 
ed fragments in the western pediment. The rest has dis- 
appeared under the ruthless hand of the Venetian destroy- 
er and the vandalism of Lord Elgin. No gold and ivory 
goddess now remains to rule her temple as she did of old 
and be the iEgis of Athenian hearts. All is desolate and 
yet grand, even in its desolation. During my short week's 
stay in Athens I often climbed thither to read and write and 
think, sometimes sitting in an old worn and defaced mar- 
ble chair, brought hither from "Mars hill" and which now 
stands in the area where the tall grass sprouts from be- 
tween the joints of the marble pavement ; or again reclining 
upon some random block within the cella on the seaward 
side, giving me in a single coup dZ oeil the Peloponnesus, 
Salamis and the Isle of iEgina, once proud Athens' bitter 
foe. The modern city, so insignificant in such a scene, 
lies far below and mostly out of sight. Up here, you are 
again in ancient times. Around you is still the same 
cloudless sky and warm bright air. Here is the place 
whence, with undistracted vision, to look out with mem- 
ory's e}'e over all Greece, with her famous histories and 
cities and men. Here you are within what was once her 
very heart, a fortress, treasury, shrine and home of Art, 
Where yonder long black train of ants winds its way 
among the shattered fragments, once trod the mighty 



32 



Days in the East. 



men of old. Look around. Over yonder rises the white 
dust on the road leading to old Elensis. Over there is 
where Xerxes' golden throne was raised that the over-con- 
fident king might witness at his ease the battle of Sala- 
mis. Not far away are the shores where Demosthenes 
matched his voice against the swelling floods that he 
might cope successfully with that other tumult springing 
from the hearts he had stirred up. Turn a little and }'ou 
have in full view Hymettus of the hone}' and Pentelicus 
with its ancient quarries, the mountain from whose bosom 
was taken the ancient city. But I have entered on an 
endless catalogue and must stop at its beginning. We 
are in a land whose every stream and river flows through 
epic song and classic stoiy. 

Not far from the Parthenon stands the Erectheium with 
its fine Ionic columns and the grand figures of the female 
Caryatides on its southern portico, whose reproduction 
the visitor to London will recollect in connection with the 
church of S. Pancras in that city. On this spot Minerva 
divided her worship with Neptune and here grew her sa- 
cred olive-tree which the Persians burned but which 
grew again with the revival of Athenian arms. This is 
said to be also the tomb of Cecrops, the founder of 
Athens ; and from here the visitor ma}' easily pass over 
to the old deep well from whose bucket I ventured to 
take a drink for the sake of its associations and into 
whose depths a pebble fell with solemn sound. 

But it is time to go down from the Acropolis and step 
over to Mars hill, or the Areopagus which lies a short 
distance below. On it you may stand in the very foot- 
steps of the Apostle Paul, who here, beneath the hoary 
rock then crowned with its temple, addressed the fickle 
Athenians among whom were Dionysius and Da maris, on 
the text which he had taken from one of their own altars 



The "Eye of Greece!' 



33 



somewhere near, "To the unknown God." Rudely cut 
steps conduct you to the top of this irregular mass of 
hard, marble- like rock. Around its base lay the ancient 
agora. Here, too, sat by night the court of ancient 
Athens, and, according to tradition, once judged Mars 
for the murder of Alirothius. Here, too, Socrates was 
tried and in the face of yonder low cliff are the doors of 
the cavern prison in which he is said to have been con- 
fined before his execution and where he drank the fatal 
hemlock. This hill became another favorite resort, es- 
pecially toward the evening hour, when we amused our- 
selves in breaking crystal from the rocks, or making 
friends with the urchins whose sheep and goats were 
browsing below and who brought us }dlow flowers from 
the rocky cliffs ; or anon engaged in alternate reverie and 
watching the distant lightning playing among the Attic 
hills. It was a sight to see the sunset hues flung over 
the citadel and gilding the clouds that so darkly shrouded 
these noble hills. But we usually had to retire early, as 
it was not long before the cool evening wind began to 
whistle around us on our lofty perch. 

Then there w r ere our moonlight rambles, due to the for- 
tunate occurrence of our visit. More than once we direct- 
ed our steps to those proud columns which now alone 
remain of the great temple of Jupiter Olympus, one of the 
most splendid fanes ever erected to the 4 ' father of gods 
and men." There we would procure a couple of chairs 
belonging to some neighboring cafe and sit perhaps be- 
tween two high columns from top to top of which ran the 
architrave over our heads. In this delightful retreat we 
sat sipping our cups of black Turkish coffee and indulg- 
ing in classic dreams. At some distance from the rest 
stood two columns and near them lay a third prostrate 
on the ground. Some of these pillars, as I found by 



34 



Days in the East. 



actual measurement, were twenty feet in diameter. The 
temple to which they belonged was the work of the Pis- 
istratidae. It held the great gold and ivory statue of Jove, 
the masterpiece of Phidias, which was destroyed after- 
ward at Bj'zantium. A few steps away still runs the 
noisy Illissus and close by, is the fountain of Callirrhoe. 
Near at hand stands also the arch of Hadrian made 
of Pentelic marble and dividing what was once the impe- 
rial city from the city of Theseus. Going under this 
arch one night, we reached a small village from an upper 
room in which a sound as of the singing of hymns was 
heard. We ascended and found ourselves in a sort of 
prayer-meeting, conducted by the Rev. Mr. Kalopath- 
akes, an English-speaking missionary. At the house of 
this courteous pastor we were the recipients of much 
kindness and had the pleasure of meeting there Prof. 
Packard of the college and several other English and 
American residents in Athens. Here also we met the 
Rev. Mr. Greenlee, a young Presbyterian missionary 
then on his way to his field of labor in Syria and who 
afterwards accompanied us to Bey rout. 

Among the other ruins which we had the deep joy of 
seeing in Athens was the temple of Theseus which is 
well preserved, considering its great age, for it is said to 
have been the work of Cymon the son of Miltiades. Its 
weather-beaten columns are held to stand on the grave 
of the hero Theseus. Another was the Tower of the 
Winds close by the foot of the Acropolis where Androni- 
cus placed his water-clock. Its eight aged sides still 
face the breezes of eight Athenian winds. Still another 
was the old round building with its six fluted columns to 
which has been given various names, among them that 
of the Lantern of Demosthenes. It is probably the mon- 
ument of Lysicrates. Occasionally we would come upon 



The "Eye of Greece T 



35 



fragments not mentioned in the guide-book. Nor did we 
forget to cross over sometimes from the Acropolis to the 
Museum hill, where in the niches of a broken monument 
still sit above the loose, toppling blocks several headless 
human statues with their weather-beaten trunks. Hence 
we could overlook the Pnyx and its bema whence the 
ancient harangues were made to the people. Here are 
hewn from out the solid rock a pulpit, platform and 
some ancient steps ; and from them once rang out the 
voice of Demosthenes. But all are now silent and un- 
used, and where the ground was once trodden hard by 
the assembled crowds, now lies the plough's rough 
furrow. 



ON CLASSIC HEIGHTS. 



One morning we went to the edge of the modern city 
and began our ascent of Mt. Lycabettus. The way was 
steep and rocky and we were frequently obliged to pause 
and rest upon some convenient boulder while several 
Greek priests, borne steadily along on their careful asses 
passed us and never stopped. Here and there, modest 
flowers had gained a scanty hold upon the rocks and of 
these we bore away a few as trophies, as well as some of 
the sparkling crystals which lay thickly strewn on each 
side of our pathway. At last we reached the top where 
stands, on the highest part, the little modest white 
church of S. George. A diminutive bell swings in the 
belfry, and, hewn in the solid rock in front of the church, 
is a pedestal supporting a low staff surmounted by a 
cross. The terrace on which the little temple stands is 
enclosed in a garden walled about with a fence of stone 
slabs. It would seem that at night a lamp is always 
burning on this elevation for I often noticed it high up in 
the air as we took our evening strolls in the city streets 
below. The church was closed, but we sat down in the 
low doorway and looked out over the magnificent pano- 
rama beneath us. Nearly all of Athens was in front of 
us — the hills on this side and on that, the sea — afar upon 
whose bosom we saw a large steamer plowing her way 
through the curling foam. The harbor itself with its 



On Classic Heights. 



37 



many masts was plainly in sight and beyond it, Salamis ; 
while on the other side of the bay loomed the hazy shores 
of the Morea — bringing up recollections of the old Dorian 
conquest. Ever and anon, martial sounds stirred from 
the plain below where the somewhat degenerate suc- 
cessors of the ancient hardy warriors of Greece were en- 
gaged in the exercises of the drill. Even a faint hum 
was heard from afar proceeding from the narrow and yet 
busy streets. I thought again, as I could not help doing 
on all such occasions, of the past glory of this chief- 
centre of Attica and the world. This was the city whose 
origin is too dim to be seen and whose last King, Codrus, 
courted his own death in the Spartan camp because the 
oracle of Delphi had made the safet} r of Athens depend on 
the sacrifice of her chief man. This was the city whose 
walls Lysander tore clown to the sound of music. Here 
was where Draco wrote his bloocty code. This was the 
home of Solon, chief of "the seven wise men" of Greece ; 
of Pisistratus, an usurper, but the best one of history ; 
of Miltiades, the hero of Marathon whose glory after- 
wards lost its lustre by an indhTerent career ; of clever 
Themistocles, the hero of Salamis ; of Aristides, the man 
of virtue incorruptible ; of the brilliant Pericles ; of the 
sculptor Phidias ; of Alcibiades, "the lion's whelp ;" and 
greatest of all, the eloquent Demosthenes and Socrates, 
the "wisest of mankind. ,, What an array of names are 
these, a few only from the superb catalogue, throwing an 
unfading lustre over this, surely not the least in the world's 
great trio of cities ! 

We made the ascent also of two other mountains in 
the vicinity of Athens, Hymettus and Pentelicus. The 
former is some two or three miles from Athens, but the 
road being lonely and impassable for carriages and the 
mountain bleak, it is very seldom visited by tourists. 



38 



Days in the East. 



We determined, however, for the sake of its place in 
song and story not to slight it, even though we had to 
accomplish the entire and arduous excursion on foot. 
So off we set one morning past the barracks and out up- 
on the solitary road across the intervening plain. We 
had just reached the entrance of the desolate gorges which 
run toward the base of the mountain when the rain came 
on and we were obliged to seek shelter beneath an over- 
hanging rock. Above us, on the hillside, stood some 
ruined and broken walls but not a living thing, not a hu- 
man habitation could be seen. All was grey hills and 
bare solid rock. From afar, however, we could hear, 
every now and then, the piping of some lonely unseen 
bird. A better place for brigands there could not be and 
it is not long since all this region was infested with these 
marauders. The shower abating, we pursued our course 
up a ravine through which ran the dry bed of a mountain 
torrent. Presently we saw at some distance, across a 
broadening vallev. the curling smoke of some lone mon- 
astery ascending dreamily through a grove of cypress and 
olive-trees. It lay beyond our reach but its presence 
there was like that of a man on the desert or the sight of 
a sail to the ocean waif. And now began the hard and 
steep ascent, a task which it is not easj T to describe to 
him who has never actually tried his legs on the trackless 
side of a Grecian mountain. There being no tourists, 
there was of course no path available, at least in the 
quarter toward which we had struck. Up we scrambled 
over the rough untrodden rocks, dropping down every 
now and then out of breath. But even as we paused we 
were solaced and repaid by the sound of a humming in 
the still air. There, sure enough, was a bee, the bee of 
Hymettus, famous for its honey and now gilding a little 
mountain flower with its yellow coat. Higher up we 



On Classic Heights. 



39 



struggled, starting the wild partridge from its cover, and 
attracting the notice of several horses which by some teat 
of dexterity had gained their lofty elevation and were now 
grazing over the scanty verdure. We thought once we 
were approaching the top, but in a few moments we found 
we had only reached a projecting ridge. Another slope 
which looked as if it must certainly lead to the brow was 
climbed, at the expense of beating hearts and aching 
limbs, and then again, away before us rolled another hol- 
low on the mountain top, dividing us from the topmost 
ridge over a mile distant and quite invisible from the point 
whence we had commenced our ascent. It was too much. 
The rain was coming on again. Thick clouds of mist 
swept into our faces. We could not go a step further. 
At the risk of a thorough soaking we stopped long enough 
to seize another view, when it could be had, of the glo- 
rious sweep of mountain, plain and sea. And then down 
we slid among the rocks and bushes at a breakneck pace, 
taking the shortest cut and getting many a fall and bruise. 
As we at last gained a temporary refuge beneath the shel- 
ter of an old olive, I vowed I would never, even for the 
sake of classical sentiment, try that kind of climbing 
again. By the time we had dragged our weary forms 
back to Athens, it was pain even to lie down. 

The weather threw a shadow likewise over our excur- 
sion to Pentelicus. We started one morning in a rickety 
old stage for Cephissia over a dangerous and broken road. 
The night before there had been heavy rains which in 
some places now flooded the road with broad and rapid 
torrents. Through all we clashed, however, with reckless 
bravery, although the fear of upsetting kept us more or 
less in constant alarm. After stopping a long time for 
our driver and his friends to refresh themselves in the 
market-place of a little town on the road, we at last reach- 



4Q 



Days in the East. 



ed Cephissia and set out on foot along the road by which 
the snowy produce of the mountain is still taken away. 
Just outside the town we passed a large deep spring well 
filled with clear limpid water, close beside a little chapel, 
and on its curb we sat down to watch the women washing 
their clothes upon the smooth flat stones at the water's 
edge, an operation which, in their part of the world, is 
always a public proceeding. As we went on. with far 
more ease than the handworked horses whose incessant 
toil was evidenced by the deep ruts cut in the solid rock, 
we often found an elegant if not luxurious resting place 
on some long white block of shining marble by the road- 
side. Here we were always in full view of the scarred 
but snowy bosom of the mountain glaring in the sun, 
while higher up clouds that were hardly whiter, were 
bathing the top with dew. The sky grew more threat- 
ening as we pursued our journey and when we had ar- 
rived at a point high up the hill and commanding a mag- 
nificent picture we found that there would be little satis- 
faction in ascending higher through the gathering mist. 
Our chief reason for wishing to reach the top was. in order 
thence to obtain a view of the famous plain of Marathon. 
My companion, light, wiry and of superior physical 
strength, declared he would take the chances and bade 
me wait for him. In fifteen minutes he called from the 
top of a distant ridge that he could see nothing. For an 
instant I saw his form outlined against the sky and then 
he disappeared again. AYnen he rejoined me he had an 
experience to relate of a fearful climb among wet bushes 
where he had lost his way in the mist. But he insisted, 
nevertheless, that among the cloud rifts he had surely 
gotten a glimpse of Marathon, an achievement concerning 
which, after mo much hard work, it would have been un- 
generous to be sceptical. 



ADIEU TO ATHENS. 



The time was now coming round for the sailing of the 
steamer to Smyrna. So we purchased our souvenirs and 
prepared for our last walk through the streets of the 
modern city, about which I have said little because there 
is so little to say. The streets in the newer portions of 
the town are pleasant and agreeable but in the quarter 
immediately beneath the Acropolis they are foul and nar- 
row. Our hotel lay close beside the royal palace and in 
our walk to and from the principal ruins we were often 
conducted through bazars of a somewhat Oriental cast 
where we were obliged to squeeze our way past patient 
donkeys who stood half-asleep under their heavy loads of 
luscious fruit, and where dishes of food and sweetmeats in- 
conceivable were offered for sale. In these purlieus which 
crowd the base of the ancient citadel, we often found the 
pathways full of mire and nastiness, the houses being 
little better than mere hovels. Everywhere may be seen 
the typical Greek in his short white skirt, tasseled fez, 
and broadsword at his thigh, while now and then, in front 
of a cafe, you come upon a group of idlers sitting in a 
circle upon their low stools and solemnly purring away at 
their narghilehs, or drinking Turkish coffee from tiny 
cups. Fountains seemed to be plentiful and ran at every 
corner, as often as the Greek maidens drew near to fill 
their earthen water-pots. The churches are plentifully 
sprinkled about, some being new, others those very little 



42 



Days in the East. 



brown structures in the Byzantine style with which the 
first walk in Athens will serve to familiarize one. At the 
hour 1 of service the plaintive chant of singing men may 
lure you within. And if so, you will see nothing but the 
usual dull interior of an Orthodox Greek church, with 
flat Byzantine ornaments upon the walls. With their 
hours of Sunday service I could not become acquainted 
during my short stay. But an attempt to discover a serv- 
ice in any one of them at the usual time on Sunday 
morning, was entirely futile. The churches were gener- 
ally closed, but the shops and stores in the neighborhood 
were always wide open. There seems to be an opinion 
prevalent in certain ecclesiastical circles at home which 
contrasts the Greek Church with the Church of Koine, 
quite unfavorably to the latter. Without taking up the 
cudgel of defence, or even hazarding an}' opinion bej^ond 
that founded on personal observation, I may here state 
that, judging from what I have seen of the modern Ortho- 
dox Eastern Church in Greece and Syria, it is far more 
lifeless and unaggressive than its powerful rival, while it 
certainly has no advantage over Kome in point either of 
ecclesiastical courtesy, or Christian virtue. 

While on the subject of churches, the reader will per- 
haps pardon an allusion to the pretty English chapel at 
Athens. It is an unspeakable comfort to have the priv- 
ilege of hearing one's own language in a church on 
foreign soil, especially in regions so far from English and 
American homes. Nowhere did I appreciate it more than 
on our Sunday evening at Athens. I had been spending 
a rather lonely afternoon with the little birds about the 
Parthenon, watching the rays of the autumn sun shooting 
through the gloomy clouds and tinting the" blue sea with 
its own shade. With the thought of the home so far 
away, I descended at dusk and went into the dimly lighted 



Adieu to Athens. 



43 



chapel where the evening service was being read. It was 
already so dark that the officiating clerg} T man was obliged 
to stoop in order to see the words of the lessons, but the 
hour was full of peace and gratitude for the dear old 
words which called up the memories of another land. 

But we must be off to "fresh fields" and "new" pas- 
tures and so I shall leave Athens to be more tenderly 
dealt with by some future traveler and hasten aw^ay to 
the deck of the steamer about to sail from the Piraeus 
to Smyrna. Here we found a pleasant party which kept 
all together as far as Beyrout, and three of whom were 
our companions even to Jerusalem. First was the Rev. 
Mr. Greenlee whom we had met at the house of Mr. 
Kalopathakes. Next came the Rev. Youhannah El- 
Karey with his wife and sister-in-law, on his way to his 
missionary station at Nablous. Then there was also Mr. 
Thien, a good-natured, courteous German artist from 
Cincinnati. These, with D. and nryself, made a company 
of seven persons every one of whom I think felt the bet- 
ter for his acquaintance with the others. Especially 
were we glad to fall in with Mr. El-Karey whose long 
residence in Palestine enabled him to tell us much of the 
country which we were soon to enter and of which we 
knew as } T et comparatively nothing. For a while we sat 
contentedly on deck, alternately talking and watching 
the measured strokes of the rowers who plied their tiny 
crafts between the shore and the men-of-war lying in the 
harbor. Several of the finest, as was usually the case in 
Oriental ports, flew the flag of Britain. In the course of 
the late afternoon we started and were almost immedi- 
ately afterwards called to dinner. The only things I re- 
member distinctly for the rest of that da}- were certain dim 
and dusky island outlines rising above the blue waters 
which danced and shimmered in the silvery moonlight. 



THE SHORES OF THE LEVANT. 



The morn was sunny, but the sea was rough. Person- 
ally, however, I had nothing to complain of, my own 
constitution being partially, though not wholly, proof 
against most of Neptune's pranks. The sea-gull was 
reeling along over the gilded white-caps, and the sharp 
fin of a shark rose now and then above the clear blue 
wave. Soon we saw before us the outlines of the lovely 
isle of Chios, the 1 'paradise of the Levant," but foully 
devastated alike by Turk and earthquake. Indeed, the 
latter foe had, as we learned, been bus}' just before our 
arrival. We anchored a short way off the quaint little 
city which lies along the shore, showing here and there 
fragments of its old Venetian walls. Its half Moslem 
and half Christian character was evidenced by the pres- 
ence, in close conjunction, of church and mosque, of 
tower and minaret. A short distance behind us a lone 
rock stood in the sea, its silent summit crowned by a 
light-house. The usual fleet of small boats was soon be- 
neath the sides of the vessel, some of the boatmen in 
Oriental dress, wearing red sashes into which were thrust 
murderous looking knives. Mastic venders leaped aboard 
and with noisy and vociferous shouts began to hawk 
about the vessel their odorous wares. Now we began, 
with our new relay of passengers, to see more of those 



The Shores of the Levant. 45 



two great features of Turkish out-door life, of which we 
never lost sight until we had said farewell to Alexandria, 
the tiny cup of black coffee and the indolent, luxurious 
"hubble-bubble" — or narghileh. All the wa}- to Smyrna 
we had opportunities of watching the use of these, as 
well as other curious customs of the East. For we were 
getting farther and farther into Moslemdom and we soon 
had a goodly number of the followers of the prophet on 
board. Among them was a strong, well-built Moham- 
medan wearing a conspicuous turban of green around his 
red fez and thus pronounced to be in the direct line of 
descent from Mahomet himself. With him talked an old 
sharp-featured man of sinister aspect and clad in a long 
gown of green who was pointed out to me by Mr. El- 
Karey as a dancing dervish, residing probably at Smyrna. 
At the hour of prayer this man devoutly spread his rug 
upon the deck and kneeling, in temporary oblivion of all 
around him and with his face always towards Mecca, 
went mechanically through his devotions. These Moslem 
prayers, of which I saw so many afterwards, in the city, 
by the side of the mountain stream, in the house and, 
from a safe distance, in the mosque itself, consist of a 
variety of postures and exclamations. These the child 
of the prophet always carries out, regardless of circum- 
stances ; for the faithful Mohammedan always prays 
when the time comes, in spite of hindrances, on land, 
or sea, on the hill-top, or in the public park. " Allah- 
hu-akbar" "God is great," together with the repetition 
of passages from tha Koran, is the burden of his 
praises and prayers. Now he stands and now he kneels ; 
again, he is pressing his forehead to the earth. At 
one stage of his devotions he carefulty looks from side 
to side to see if the "anger' is near. All is clone in 
apparent abstraction yet I have seen yawns, gapings, 



4 6 



Days in the East. 



stretches and even questions answered during the devo- 
tional process. 

At last, towards the close of the afternoon, we caught 
sight afar upon the low shore line of a village of white 
Turkish tents. On the sea in front appeared a fleet of 
fishing boats each with its Oriental looking lateen sail. 
And then to the right we could descry the ancient city, 
sloping partly up the rising ground behind it, one em- 
inence of which was crowned by the castle, while loftier 
mountains filled in the distant background. The sunset 
flung its low retiring hues over hills and city, empurpling 
the mountains in its waning light and gilding the tall 
and graceful minarets. We safety passed the inspection 
of the quarantine authorities, in that part of the world 
and at that time always on the qui vine. We even passed, 
by means of the * 4 Silver Key/ 5 what was much worse 
than the health-inspection, and full of the noise and con- 
fusion of bedlam itself, an Eastern custom-house ; but it 
was long after dark ere we were able to sit down to din- 
ner at the hotel. 

The next morning after breakfast, Mr. El-Kare}', who 
acted as a sort of generalissimo of our party, made it his 
first business to secure our passports which had been tak- 
en from us the night before, mainly for the purpose of 
extorting an additional backsheesh. This accomplished, 
we set out in our self-chosen ways to explore the city. 
Here the Western tourist comes into a new world. The 
sprinkling of Europeans is not large. Nearly everything 
is Oriental. In Smyrna we first saw camels used in the 
streets as beasts of burden and Moslem women walking 
about, closely veiled and covered complete!}' with their 
white sheets. And the city has its history too, as well 
as its curiosities. It is one of those seven cities that 
claim to be Homer's birthplace. It was the habitation 



The Shores of the Levant. 



47 



of one of " the seven churches," addressed by the Apos- 
tle John in the Book of Revelation. And it is likewise 
the city of which Poly carp was bishop and in w T hich he 
suffered martyrdom for holy faith. 

We strolled at leisure through the narrow, lab3 T rinth- 
ine streets, where the balconies over head seemed so 
close as almost to touch their rails together. We saw 
porters with straps brought over their foreheads, bowing 
low beneath their heavy loads, and swarthy Nubians 
threading their own way through the busy maze. We 
scented, too, the odors of the great tra}^s of little fish 
which were being borne along upon the heads of public 
carriers. In the bazars the merchant sat cross-legged 
among his wares which were piled up high at his sides 
and back. Heaps of the figs for which Smyrna is famous 
were to be seen on every hand. Every possible hue 
and color was displayed in the striped costumes and 
flowered veils of the more dressy frequenters of the 
streets, male and female, the belts of the former almost 
never weaponless. Every now and then a caravan of 
camels, tinkling its warning bells, would come treading 
softly, but with long swift strides along the crowded 
way. 

One of our excursions was made to the ruins of the old 
crusader's castle which stands on its rock}' perch above 
the city. It is a fatiguing climb on foot, but while D. 
preferred this method, T. and myself more easily accom- 
plished the feat on the backs of two small, but wiry little 
donkeys decked in showy Eastern trappings. At one point 
beside the road as we went up, we saw the fissure rent by an 
earthquake and in another elevated spot a plentiful sprink- 
ling of oyster shells which somewhat puzzled our brains 
to know how they had got there. Again we passed a 
Turkish graveyard with its short rude stones shooting 



4 8 



Days in the East. 



abruptly up from mother earth. Far below we could see 
the cypress groves agaiust whose dark green foliage the 
masses of bare brown walls stood out in sharp relief. The 
sun was hot and great drops of sweat stood forth upon 
the forehead of our muleteer as he plodded along in his 
ample Grecian costume. At last we reached the top and 
dismounting, found ourselves among the remains of mas- 
sive walls and mighty cisterns belonging to the old for- 
tress. But we soon lost our interest in these things in 
the magnificent view over which swept our wondering 
vision. It was a grand panorama of sea and city and 
everlasting hills, one of those views the bare allusion to 
which cannot fail to call up delightful memories in the 
mind of the reader who has looked upon it, but which is 
in itself fairly indescribable. Afar across the valleys we 
descried the remains of the acquecluct built by Alexander 
the Great, the ruins of the stadium and the spot where 
stood the ancient city ; and just below the hill could be 
partially traced the uncertain outlines of the amphitheatre. 
Over yonder too, among the hills lay somewhere the an- 
cient cit}' of Ephesus which, though so near, we were not 
to see, the exigencies of time and dismal reports of brig- 
ands in the neighborhood preventing. As we descend- 
ed we passed the reputed tomb of S. Pol}~earp, Bishop 
and Martyr, at each end of whose grave stand two green 
c} T presses one large and one small. Over the roots 
of the greater were sundry dark stains of blood, memo- 
rials of the lamb annually slain here on the Saint's birth- 
da}', as we were told by our guide. But what he meant 
was probably the u birthday of his death," his entrance, 
that is, into eternal life. It was only a meeting, out of 
books, with an old and beautiful idea. Into the trunk of 
the tree a small commemorative nail is also driven an- 
nually. As for the tomb itself it is one of those rough 



The Shores of the Levant. 



49 



plastered oblong structures, ugly and uncouth, such as 
one always finds in Mohammedan cemeteries. The Turk 
has, of course, appropriated it and his inscription is on 
the sepulchre. Upon the trees and bushes around it, 
hang parti-colored shreds of cloth left there as testimo- 
nials to the virtue of the tomb in working cures. Among 
these minimized garments of the superstitious, hung, 
when we were there, an entire green turban. 



FROM SMYRNA TO BEYROUT, 



We had heard that at Smyrna we should have a chance 
to see the dancing dervishes, of which everybody has read, 
and the opportunity was not to be missed. So we went 
one Friday afternoon about three o'clock to the plain lit- 
tle mosque where their performance is usually witnessed. 
Arriving, we found a good position at the open window 
which we preferred to taking off our shoes and going in- 
side among the crowd. The service had begun, though 
the ring of dervishes was not yet full. The rest came in 
gradually, one by one, and took their places in the squat- 
ting circle on the floor, the latter being covered with the 
6kins of deer and leopard. The preliminary movements 
were a swaying of the head and shoulders backward and 
forwards, accompanied with a deep guttural invocation of 
"Allah ! — Allah /" A leader sat at the back of the circle 
opposite the door and accelerated gradually both the cries 
and gestures of his companions. It was a strange scene 
to behold — these full-grown men grunting and swaying 
their bodies faster and faster as if they must soon have a 
rush of blood to the head and roll over in a helpless swoon 
upon the floor. But when the movement became too fran- 
tic, the measure was changed and another variation began, 
slowly and gradually increasing as before. After a while, 
several flutes, cymbals, tambourines and other instruments 
of music were brought into the centre, the players took 



From Smyrna to Beyrout. 5 1 



their positions, the circle of dervishes rose, joined hands 
and began swinging round the room at first with a slow, 
fantastic step. Within the ring the leader was now whirl- 
ing rapidly upon his toes as on a pivot, his eyes shut, 
arms both outstretched and loose garments assuming the 
inflated form incident to such gyrations. In the circle of 
dancers I noticed one or two Turkish officers and one 
small boy of hardly more than ten who seemed to have 
mastered the movements perfectly. The noise waxed 
louder. " Ya Allah!" was fairly screamed from the 
hoarse throats of the dancers, who were now also stamp- 
ing loudty on the floor. Just when the noise was loudest 
the whole thing ceased abruptly, all putting on their shoes 
and hurrying away. We ourselves departed with a vivid 
picture in our minds of the strangest religious service we 
had ever heard of or conceived. 

Of course, we wandered into the churches of which, 
however, I retain no very vivid recollections. The Greek 
cathedral is old and quaint with curious carvings and 
fine marbles. Around it ran the latticed gallerj r , com- 
mon in all Greek churches, and occupied by the women. 
The church stands among a lot of ancient graves. The 
cheerful interior of the Armenian cathedral is full of 
lightness and whiteness. Here our attention was ar- 
rested by the cushions placed in a semi-circle on the floor 
in front of the high altar and on which we were told that 
the priests sit during divine service. The high altar was 
striking, though hardly impressive, with its seven gra- 
dines rising one above another and each ledge filled with 
great altar-lights of yellow wax. Nor did we forget to 
look in upon the American missionaries who are here en- 
gaged in an active work. The philanthropic efforts of 
Mr. Constantine and the educational work of Rev. Mr. 
Bowen and his efficient wife came especially under our 



52 



Days in the East. 



notice. In the Mission school of the latter we were much 
interested by the recitations and songs which we heard 
from the lips of clever and bright-eyed little Eastern girls, 
Greeks. Armenians and Moslems all together. The tall 
sycamores here keep watch and ward over a busy hive in 
this missionary's home. Of his pretty stone church he 
has good reason to be proud. In it we saw one hand- 
some marble pillar which, as Mr. Bowen informed us, 
had been brought thither from Athens. 

On the next day. which was Saturday, we boarded the 
steamer for Beyrout. The boat had come down from 
Constantinople crowded with a multitude of unsavory 
Arabs on their way to Palestine and Egypt. They were 
accompanied by their numerous wives and crying chil- 
dren who were largely huddled together on a part of the 
deck belonging to the cabin passengers, of whose own 
comfort the authorities of the "Oreste." an Austrian- 
Lloyd vessel, seemed to manifest, whether with, or with- 
out excuse, an utter disregard. The vessel was shame- 
fully overcrowded, as it would not have been allowed to 
be in English or American waters, and in event of an 
accident the calamity would have been fearful. To ag- 
grevate the rest, there were several heads of diseased 
cattle on board which were finally butchered early one 
morning in an inhuman manner and thrown into the sea. 
Of this operation however I was not myself a witness, 
my information coming through one of the party who was 
an earlier riser. On this steamer we first became ac- 
quainted with several gentlemen who afterwards became 
our fellow pilgrims through Palestine — the Rev. Dr. 
McKenzie and son, of Cambridge, Mass. ; Mr. Mc Garry 
of Pennsylvania and Mr. Mill of London. These were 
already organized for the 4 -long tour" through Palestine 
under the care of Mr. Alexander Howard the well known 



From Smyrna to Beyrout. 53 



Oriental contractor. Here was an unexpected chance for 
us to extend our own plans. After much consultation, 
D., Thien and I decided to abandon the steamer at Bey- 
rout, instead of going on to Jaffa — and unite our fortunes 
in Palestine to those of our new friends. This proposed 
arrangement we afterwards effected satisfactorily at Bey- 
rout, and my narrative henceforth as far as Jerusalem, 
becomes the narrative of six — able-bodied, earnest and en- 
thusiastic. 

The following Sunday morning was ushered in by 
a clear sun which rose majestically over the dark hills. 
The sea was of a brilliant sapphire. The sky was filled 
with blue and purple haze. We passed Samos, the re- 
puted birthplace of Juno and Pythagoras, as well as the 
isle where the great " father of History," Herodotus, 
lived and wrote a large portion of his works. But we 
were on the lookout for an island even more famous than 
Samos and anxious lest we should not see it. The fear 
of disappointment kept us all on the qui vive ; and the joy 
can scarcely be imagined with which about the middle of 
the forenoon the captain pointed out to us a long low isl- 
and, rising from the sea, as Patmos, the place whither 
Domitian sent S. John into exile and where the book of 
Revelation was given to the infant church. In the mid- 
dle ages it was called Palmosa, or ''palm-bearing," al- 
though there is said to be, at present, but one palm-tree 
in the whole island. We thought we could even see the 
famous monastery on its mountain top and overlooking 
the cave in which the Apostle is said to have received his 
revelation. We looked long and reverently at the blue 
sky above this sacred island and in it we found our ser- 
mon and meditation for that lovely Sunday morning. 

That same day we passed within sight of Halicarnas- 
sus around which were the usual rugged-rocks rearing 



54 



Days in the East. 



their bare, reddish sea-walls out of the blue wave ; and 
when evening came we gathered the little company of 
English speaking people in the saloon and had a short 
informal service. Dr. Mc Kenzie added a few helpful 
words, much to the satisfaction of our little company in 
which were some new faces of missionaries and deacon- 
esses on their way to Syria. Late in the evening we 
dropped anchor off Rhodes, whose harbor, once bestrid- 
den by the great Colossus, now flashed its light towards 
us over the dusky waters. We were too far away to dis- 
cern much on the shore amid the darkness, and our stay 
was to be too short for a landing, even if the hour had 
been more opportune. So we were fain to content our- 
selves with mentally reviewing its history and watching 
the motley horde of boatmen who swarmed pell-mell over 
the deck, the meanwhile quarelling with each other and 
vociferating like fiends. It was enough to wrench out 
all the poetry and romance from any recollections we 
might have of this "Isle of Roses" and Crusader's home. 
Tired out with the din and confusion, I was soon glad to 
descend the deck and dismiss the memories of Apelles, 
the Apostle of Art and Hippocrates, the Apostle of Med- 
icine, both of whom were born here, as well as of the 
bold knights of S. John and the sanguinary siege by the 
great Solyman, in indifferent sleep. 

The next day we were on the open sea, out of sight of 
land for the first time since leaving Brindisi, on our way 
to Cyprus. This was the longest portion of the passage. 
Our resources b} r day were now only conversation and 
note-taking, by night lounging on deck and watching the 
meteors streaking through the azure. Now and then, we 
had a song, our good friend from Cincinnati delighting 
our ear with the Lorelei in his native tongue. On Tues- 
day morning we again had something to look at, being 



From Smyrna to Bey rout. 



55 



now abreast of the long rugged back of Cyprus. This is 
an island said to be now, as of old, rich in female beauty 
and vile in climate. As we skirted its shores, memories 
of Paul and Barnabas, of Sergius Paulus and the blinded 
blasphemer, Ely mas rose to our minds. We made our 
first stop at Limasol and then proceeded to Larnaca, the 
length of our stay at each place being so uncertain that 
it was deemed unwise to go ashore. Larnaca, from the 
deck of the steamer, formed a very pretty Oriental picture 
with the waves fretting its sandy margin and the cypress, 
palm and lofty minaret rising together just beyond. It 
is probably little like the city, however, in which Zeno 
was born, or in the siege of which died Cymon, the son 
of Miltiades and the flower of the Athenian soldiery. It 
was nearly dark when we departed and we went to bed 
that night with high hopes and beating hearts. To-mor- 
row morning we should get our first glimpse of u goodly 
Lebanon," and the lands of the Bible ! 



FIRST GLIMPSES OF SYRIA. 



It was very early on the morning of Wednesday, 
October 24, that I went on deck and saw, rising some 
distance in front of us the grand range of the mountains 
of Lebanon. This, my first glimpse of the lands of 
Scripture was afforded me under the most favorable au- 
spices. The sun had ascended the hills and thrown out 
his rays to meet us over a smooth and beautiful sea. 
Notwithstanding an over-crowded steamer, we had had 
a comfortable passage from Smyrna, and a feeling of 
thankful satisfaction prevailed on board as we ap- 
proached the spruce looking city of Beyrout. It is one 
of the finest and healthiest towns in the East and the 
beauty of its situation is a glad surprise to the traveler 
who sees it, as we did, on a pleasant autumn morning, 
with its masses of verdure and houses of white and 
brown lying in relief against the red sand hills which rise 
to the west and southwest of the city. Best of all, the 
surrounding mountain slopes dotted with their picturesque 
villages, put the climax of loveliness to the scene. As 
we dropped anchor in the bay we were already beset 
with a lively fleet of small boats, their gayly colored flags 
floating in the morning breeze and their noisy owners 
impatient for permission to rush aboard and secure en- 
gagements. When at last the word was given, the deck 
of the steamer was speedily turned into a pandemonium. 



First Glimpses of Syria. 



57 



For ourselves, however, we escaped all but the vocifera- 
tions of the Orientals, for we were speedily taken in 
charge by Mr. Alexander Howard, with whom our ar- 
rangements were soon concluded for the "long tour" 
through the Holy Land. Having run the gauntlet of the 
usual crowd of tide-waiters and beggars, who are a trifle 
more annoying in their importunities in the East than 
elsewhere, and also passed the stupidly conducted and 
mercenary Turkish custom-house, we were safely lodged 
in the comfortable Hotel d y Orient, where one may enjoy 
moderately good dinners and a magnificent view of the 
sea. 

Our first afternoon was spent in looking about the 
town, which, though not possessed of very many "sights," 
is yet exceedingly interesting on account of its history. 
It is a Phoenician city of great antiquity. It was once 
celebrated for its Greek culture and for the baths, thea- 
tres and other beautiful buildings with which it was 
adorned by Agrippa, the elder grandson of Herod the 
Great. Here it was that Titus put the captive Jews into 
the lists to fight with wild beasts and with one another. 
Afterwards it became famous for its Roman law schools 
under Alexander Severus. Here Appian and Gregory 
thought and wrought, and here St. George is said to have 
slain the dragon. Its more modern history is a chequered 
one. It has been destroyed by earthquakes, captured by 
the Crusaders, re-taken by the Turks, and bombarded by 
the English. It has been said that there are no wheeled ve- 
hicles in Beyrout, a statement which is no longer true, 
inasmuch as our afternoon excursion, save in the centre 
of the city where the streets are very narrow and crook- 
ed, was accomplished wholly in two-horse carriages. 
After paying a visit to our American consul, we drove 
out to the Syrian Protestant mission, where, under the 



58 



Days in the East. 



kind guidance of the President, the Rev. Dr. Bliss, we 
inspected the buildings and appointments of that admir- 
able institution. Its site on the sea-shore is one of the 
loveliest in all Syria, and the breeze which blew over us 
as we strolled through the grounds, was delightfully re- 
freshing. As we returned through the town we could 
not but admire the tracery of the windows in the better 
class of houses, and the cheerful-looking geraniums and 
other flowers with which their flat roofs are sometimes 
adorned. The same can hardly be said of sundry other feat- 
ures of the streets. The numerous fountains are either 
insufficient, or not applied to cleanse their foulness, and 
in some places the ways are so straitened that when a 
camel kneels down in the middle to receive or deliver 
his burden, you are obliged closely to hug the wall in 
passing. In such quarters, too, you are jostled by beg- 
gars and dervishes in masses of rags, or by Moslem wom- 
en in their unbecoming summer costume of an ugly veil 
for the face and a white sheet for the body ; which two 
articles of apparel completely envelope the whole per- 
son. And then, too, until you have learned to ejaculate 
? 4 ma fish J 93 * 4 there is nothing," with sufficient severity 
of tone and look, you are beset at every turn with the 
endless cry from men, women and children of " back- 
sheesh !" " backsheesh ! " 

The next morning I was up at sunrise while the air 
was fresh and the birds were singing, because I would 
fain enjoy the peculiar beauty of this lovely neighborhood 
at the early morning hour. At breakfast I was some- 
what surprised to see the landlord himself in his loose 
jacket and flowing trousers, waiting upon his guests ; but 
this, I was assured, was to be considered a mark of re- 
spect. After the meal was over, I strolled out to the 
English post-office, passing on the way numerous dogs of 



First Glimpses of Syria. 



59 



similar breeds, standing, or running, or asleep in the 
streets and enjoying a curious immunity from molestation. 
Neither men nor horses will tread on them ; but the sleep- 
ing dog snores on in the middle of the pathway while 
other animals step over, or go around him. These dogs 
are a peculiar feature of Oriental streets, especially at 
Damascus and Jerusalem. I could not help but notice 
also some exceedingly primitive methods of work among 
the mechanics w T ho, in some cases, pursued their occupa- 
tions> not in-doors, but filed and sawed and cobbled at 
the shady side of the street and always in a sitting pos- 
„ ture. Returning to the hotel, our horses were taken for 
a preliminary trip to Dog River. Following the advice 
of my friend, El Karey, I mounted a handsome little Bed- 
ouin steed which, true to his origin, turned out to be the 
most unruly animal throughout the entire trip. We had 
gone but a few paces when his spirits became too much 
for him, and in my efforts to curb him he reared and fell 
over with me backward, when I narrowly escaped a bro- 
ken limb. On exchanging horses with the dragoman, 
howeyer, and learning the very novel way in which an 
Arab manages his bridle, I had no further difficulty. 

Leaving the city at last, our little cavalcade rode out 
along the sea-shore, our handsome and intelligent drago- 
man, Ibrahim Mordecai, in his turban of maroon and 
white and gold, at the head. The shimmering sea was 
lovely as usual. Every now and then, we passed patient 
little donkeys, their huge heads and ears protruding from 
the overwhelming masses of greens and brush with which 
they were laden. Here was a beautiful green plain and 
there, great, rough rock- masses lifted their grey brows 
against the blue sky. After riding for several hours, 
partly in the sand, partly in the surf of the sea-shore, 
we arrived at a steep, rocky causeway, up which we 



6o 



Days in the East. 



climbed, clinging to our horses' manes, and where one 
would hardly have thought of riding a horse at home. 
These Syrian horses, however, as we afterwards found, 
are very sure-footed, even on slippery and dangerous 
passes, and we sometimes rode them over places where 
previously we should not have cared to walk ourselves. 
In the face of the rock, from which wild flowers spring 
here and there along the causeway, there are some an- 
cient carvings of interest to the traveler, but the origin 
of which is more or less doubtful. The highest point 
commands a wide and sweeping view of the sea. Here, 
guarding this narrow road whose stones have echoed to 
the tread of the armies of a world, once stood, according 
to the legend, a monster dog of stone, whose bark gave 
notice of the enemy's approach. But its wailings in the 
time of storms so excited the fears of the neighboring 
people that they finally mustered courage and hurled the 
creature into the sea. We dismounted and led our 
horses down the steep road to the river and there had a 
drink of some of the pure water with which Beyrout is 
hence supplied. The sun was hot and we did not linger 
long by the river, but, after our cooling draught, speedily 
retraced our steps to the shady lunching-place where we 
found T — , who, less enthusiastic than his companions, 
had tarried behind and was calmly smoking his nargileh. 

A wash in the cool water of the large circular fountain 
prepared us for our refreshment, which we enjoyed within 
sound of a purling brook crossed by a narrow stone 
bridge a few yards away. Over this bridge strode every 
now and then a heavily-laden camel, craning his long 
neck in front of him and tinkling the bells w f hich were 
suspended from it. On the slopes at one side of us the 
bananas hung ripening on the trees, while in the gardens 
below were patches of the large-leaved Eastern potato. 



First Glimpses of Syria. 6 1 



Beyond the fields of white-tipped sugar-cane lay the blue 
sea with a glistening sail dotting it here and there. As 
we took our siestas, we became loth to exchange our 
noonday quiet for the uneasiness of our restive saddles, 
but we were several hours distant from Beyrout and were 
therefore soon again on the road. 

In going back we met several of the natives who gave 
us their usual, courteous salutation — a profound salaam, 
at the same time touching with their fingers the brow, 
("honor"), the lips, ("truth"), and the breast ("affec- 
tion"). These Arab salutations and partings, insincere 
as they often are, are things of much interest, and the 
latter are sometimes very beautiful. The departing one 
says: "Kahrtrak" "I am going by j-our leave." The 
reply is: "Mar Salaam!" "May the peace of God go 
with you," while the traveler, as he rides off, rejoins : 
" Salaam Aleikl" "May the peace of God remain with 
you !" These salutes and leave-takings, being often so 
complicated and consuming much valuable time, may, as 
Dr. Thompson suggests, throw some light on the com- 
mand of our Saviour to His Apostles to "salute no man 
by the way." 

There were, to us, many novel figures on the landscape 
as we rode along. In one place on the shore men were 
unloading a vessel which had come into as shallow water 
as possible, the porters, with nothing but their upper gar- 
ments on, wading out and bringing the cargo ashore on 
their backs. A little further on we saw a fisherman 
who, gathering his net in his hand, threw it out in 
such a manner that it whirled around and spreading, 
fell in a large flat circle upon the water, reminding us 
at once of some of the parables of our Lord and of 
His fisher-Apostles. Presently, along came a Greek 
priest, seated on his ass and reading his book of pray- 



62 



Days in the East, 



ers, as he journeyed, under the shadow of his um- 
brella. These and other Oriental scenes relieved 
the tedium of our return journey, the latter end of which 
T — and I took so slowty as to fall behind the rest of the 
party and thus got astray in the streets of Beyrout. 
However, by dint of a^few inquiries, we at last found 
our way to the hotel, well- wearied with the day's jaunt. 

I sat late that evening, on the hotel balcony, listening 
to the musical plash of the waves on the rocks below ; 
and the next morning long before the sun could be seen, 
I was enjoying with two companions a most delightful 
bath — quite out of the way of the sharks — among some 
old half-submerged ruins on the sea-shore. The crescent 
moon still hung in the heavens, and the sun was just 
climbing over Lebanon as we returned to the hotel for 
breakfast. Immediately after this was over, our horses 
were brought again to the door and we prepared for the 
grand start. 



THE SHADOWS OF LEBANON. 



The number of our party was six, three of them be- 
longing to " the cloth." Our traveling equipage consist- 
ed of five tents and over a score of horses and mules 
under the care of some eight or ten camp-servants and 
muleteers. The tents had been sent on before us the 
preceding day and were awaiting us at the place of our 
first night's encampment. We rode out of town under 
the guidance of Mr. Howard, who was to sleep with us 
during our first night under canvas, and see that every- 
thing was in good order for the journey- . Our road lay 
for a while between hedges of prickly pear and past odor- 
ous groves of pine and mulberry until at last it began to 
wind along the fertile slopes of Lebanon. As we rose 
higher and higher toward the topmost ridge we often 
looked backward upon the charming scene behind. The 
City now lay far below, wrapped in its green mantle, a 
pleasant spot upon that long line of historic coast, bor- 
dered as it was with the broad belt of azure sky and sea. 
Yonder once lay mighty Tyre and still nearer, the no 
less famous city' of Sidon. The brown hills around us 
were covered with the memories of Paynim and Crusad- 
er, and where flocks and herds now sought the shade of 
the fig and olive, the sound of battle had been often 
heard. The road over which we were riding was the 
work of French engineers, being the great diligence- 



6 4 



Days in the East. 



route from Bejrout to Damascus. Asa matter of course, 
it is a well-traveled high- way and presents many an in- 
cident and feature novel to Western eyes. The caravans 
were constantly going to, or coming from Damascus ; the 
tall gaunt camels pausing now and then to take a bite 
out of the hedge of cactus by the waj'side and half veri- 
fying the insinuation that they would probably relish a 
meal from a tombstone, or a keg of nails. A youth in 
Oriental dress came down the road, and, as he passed us, 
gave us a courteous u good-morning" in our English 
tongue. After him we met a Moslem grey-beard whose 
green turban told all the world that he was either a de- 
scendant of the prophet, or had accomplished the pilgrim- 
age to Mecca. At one turn in the road, a few tents 
as black as those of Kedar, picturesquely dotted the 
greensward and bespoke by their nomad appearance 
their Bedouin ownership and occupancy. At noon we 
stopped to lunch in the courtyard of a little khan, high 
up among the mountains, and while we were lying around 
at our meal, the great heav} T diligence from Damascus came 
lumbering by. Dense clouds now began to darken the 
hills and as we descended, late in the afternoon into the 
valley of Coele-syria, we heard the distant thunder rum- 
bling over Anti-Lebanon and saw the rainbow spanning the 
fertile plain of the BuJc'ah at our feet. The snowy head 
of Hermon was wrapped in mist and we could not then 
discern it, although within easy range of vision when the 
air was clear. Luckily, however, the shower did not cross 
our own path, nor dampen our pleasure. Although on a 
modern road, the da}' had been full of interest ; for we 
had not failed to observe here things which would hardly 
have excited a passing glance elsewhere. And even the 
croak of the raven overhead and the twitter of the spar- 
rows around us were not suffered to go unnoticed, be- 



The Shadows of Lebanon, 65 



cause the} 7 were voices heard even among the pages of 
Scripture. 

As we descended into the plain we passed a group of 
lazy Arabs by the roadside engaged in digging a trench. 
One held the handle of a long shovel, near the blade of 
which was attached a double rope whose two ends were 
held on opposite sides by a couple of his brethren, mak- 
ing three men to one shovel. Standing face to face some 
seven or eight feet apart, the man at the handle pushed 
and the men at the ropes pulled. The shovel entered 
the loose soil and slowly raised its small burden of earth 
to the surface. We reined up laughing at this specimen 
of Eastern inertness, but the whole proceeding excited 
the profound contempt of our lively and good-natured 
McG who sprang from his horse, scattered the as- 
tonished natives right and left, and seizing the shovel, 
planted his foot upon the blade, American fashion, and 
heaved out the earth with an energy most impressive to 
his grinning spectators. "There," said he, leaving Ibra- 
him to act as interpreter, "that's the way to do it." And 
we rode off, while our stubborn friends coolly resumed 
the good, old, easy way of digging that had probably 
been in use in the time of the patriarchs and prophets. 

A further ride of an hour along the foot of the hills 
brought us to our beautiful little houses of pilgrimage. 
Our camp and its arrangements realty deserve a passing 
tribute. Everything was more sumptuous even than we 
had dared to hope. There were, as I have said, five 
tents in all ; three for sleeping purposes, one for a kitch- 
en and one for dining. They were ornamented with 
bright-colored linings and contained all the conveniences 
of a well-furnished camp. On entering our apartments 
T — D — and I, who were to occupy a tent together, found 
three neat iron bedsteads, clothed in clean white linen 



66 



Days in the East. 



and warm coverlets, disposed on three sides of the tent ; 
while against the centre-pole stood our wash-stand with 
its various appurtenances. In fair weather we found the 
tent fully equal to a room in a hotel, and sweeter sleep 
than came to us therein we could not wish for. But 
when the rain descended and the winds blew, we sighed 
for the luxury of a tight board roof above our heads. 
For bad weather and bad horses are the chief foes to 
happiness on a tour through Palestine. Thieves and ill- 
ness you may have the good fortune to avoid ; but who 
ever made the trip overland from Bey rout to Jerusalem 
and came out without a single soaking, or seeing, if not 
himself, some one else in his party, unhorsed ? 

When we sat down to dinner we found it worthy of its 
surroundings. There were five courses and the food was 
splendidly cooked. If there was any difference between 
it and subsequent meals, it certainly was not to the dis- 
advantage of the former. But on the whole, the cuisine 
was well kept up throughout the entire trip. One thing 
was certain, we had the best accommodations that the 
country could furnish. No better horses, tents, drago- 
man and servants could be found in Syria. And I re- 
cord it as the opinion of experience that, so far as human 
foresight can arrange for his comfort the robust male 
tourist through the Holy Land, is likely to find even his 
most sanguine expectations realized. There is one little 
fiction of the agencies which I cannot honestly endorse, 
to the effect that the trip is one which "can be made with- 
out risk or discomfort even by ladies and invalids. This, 
though man}' such have made the journey, has I am afraid 
been found to be only a possibility , nothing more. 

As this was Friday evening, our attention as we sat at 
table was called by Mr. Howard to the fact that there 
were three Sundays represented in the camp though we 



The Shadows of Lebanon. 67 



should keep but one. Friday was the holy day of the Mos- 
lem servants and muleteers, Saturday that of our good 
Ibrahim who was a Jew, and Sunday the day of rest for us 
who were Christians and controlled the camp. All through 
the night we felt the novelty of our situation ; for while 
sleeping soundly we yet had intervals of waking and were 
lulled again to slumber by the barking dogs and tinkling 
bells of passing caravans. In the cool fresh air of early 
dawn we stepped to our tent door and lifted our eyes up- 
on snowy old Hermon and his attendant hills all of whose 
crests were just being illumined by the rising though yet 
invisible sun. It was the "dew of Hermon" that lay 
sparkling at last on our own canvas. What a luxury of 
hope and promise and delight there was in that first morn- 
ing hour of our trip ! For once the intense interest and 
novelty of the scene came between us and our appetites 
and we were glad to spring into our saddles and be off. Al- 
ready the native farmers were husking their golden corn 
in the fields and the Syrian shepherd leading, not driving 
his fat-tailed sheep in green pastures and beside clear, if 
not still waters. The caudal appendages of these ani- 
mals weigh from ten to fifteen pounds each and almost 
sweep the ground. Stories are even told of their drag- 
ging their tails behind them on little wheeled carts rigged 
up for the purpose, a contrivance which I myself however 
do not remember to have seen. The shepherd goes with 
his swarthy limbs bare below his thighs while his faithful 
dogs scatter to and fro across the plain. Great droves 
of camels mixed with lowing herds while dusk}^ long-haired 
goats with huge udders cropped the grass upon the hill- 
sides. Here we saw a farmer threshing his grain as he 
wielded his flail in the open field, the corn lying thickly 
around him in its yellow piles. There again sat a group 
of Arabs by the wayside eating their morning meal and 



68 



Days in the East. 



dipping their wafer bread into one common dish. At one 
large fountain by the roadside women were washing their 
clothes while their sisters like Rachel and Eebecca of 
old were poising upon their heads such water-jars as that 
which the prophet Jeremiah broke symbolically within 
the dark confines of Hinnom. These Eastern women were 
not uncomely, but the chief gloiy of their countenances 
was, or would have been, their large, lustrous eyes, had 
those organs been freer than they were from disease 
and dirt. How primitive and scriptural all around 
us seemed ! The vine} T ards adjacent to the road had 
each its booths or tabernacles for the shelter of those 
who gathered the grapes. The stones which marked 
the boundaries and divisions of the field were sim- 
ple things and easily moved, but it might have been 
death to tamper with them for, as of old, "cursed," still 
4 4s he who removeth his neighbor's landmark." In the 
grass-covered houses and khans made of mud and straw 
or of bricks of dark red cla}', men and cattle herded be- 
neath one common roof as they did on the eve of the 
Nativity. Along the meagre roads, the fellah still rides 
a la Balaam on his wretched little donkey, that beast to 
which no man is merciful and which has been hard at 
work with little thanks ever since it carried up out of 
Egypt the corn of Jacob's sons. The sturdy, solemn- 
looking camel went by, planting his cushioned foot upon 
sand and rock, and turning to the right hand or the left 
for no one, save his master, whose supple body swayed 
backward and forward in its lofty seat. Even the peas- 
ant on the hillside attracted our notice, attired as he was 
in a sheepskin jacket with the wool turned inside, a gar- 
ment made like the first ones of skin. 

The ploughs with which the fellahin around us were so 
lightly scratching the soil were not the sharp, heavy and 



The Shadows of Lebanon. 69 



efficient implements of our Western fields, but only crook- 
ed sticks with narrow iron blades, each having but one 
handle to which, as our Lord sa} T s, the farmer puts his 
hand, while, with the other he pricks the ox in front with 
his long iron-pointed goad. Against this formidable 
weapon, with which Shamgar, son of Anath, did such 
deadly execution among the Philistines, the restive ox 
kicks in vain ; his master standing far behind the plough, 
and therefore out of reach. Every now and then, too, 
in this land for the most part without fence or hedge, we 
saw tying in close conjunction the four kinds of ground 
neeessaiy to realize again the imagery of the parable of 
the Sower. Let us not extend the catalogue ; but these 
things and others like them are not pictures 0/ the imag- 
ination, but precious experiences, such as may be had by 
an}^ one who will travel leisurely and observingly over 
this sacred ground. All throughout Syria and Palestine 
3^ou have before you the treasure of fossilized ages. The 
dress, the implements, the food the people eat, their cus- 
toms, actions, prayers, are much as they have ever been. 

At a point several miles along the diligence road, which 
we now abandoned, Mr. Howard regaled us with a bottle 
of Lebanon wine, and bidding us good bye with the prom- 
ise to meet us again in Jerusalem, turned his horse's 
head back toward Beyrout. A short time after parting 
with him, we entered the pretty mountain village of Zah- 
leh, recalling, as we passed through, how lately, beneath 
the Druse's hand, these quiet vales and hillsides had run 
with Christian blood. Riding a little farther along the 
verdant slopes, we came into the adjoining village which 
has a world-wide curiosit}" of its own — the tomb of Noah ! 
We dismounted and ascended into a long, low chamber, 
where we found an extensive course of stonework of tri- 
angular shape, having a spear or two lying upon it, and 



7o 



Days in the East. 



otherwise covered with votive veils and colored kerchiefs, 
several of which we were permitted, by virtue of backsheesh, 
to carry off as mementoes. The ceiling was of rough 
beams, and on the walls hung sundry sentences drawn 
from the Koran. But the crowning wonder of the place 
is the length of the tomb itself. This measures no less 
than one hundred and thirty feet ; and even then the tall 
patriarch's body is bent at the knees, his lower limbs 
thence running perpendicularly into the ground. I tell 
the tale with all the gravity which it was told to us. 

Leaving this old piece of aqueduct, or whatever it may 
be, to the inspection of more facile imaginations, we rode 
onward past the chalk-hills, and, as on the day before, 
paused for our nooning at a little roadside khan. After 
leaving here, we had the distant columns of Baalbec full 
in view, but at such a distance that they appeared very 
small, rising amid their grove of verdure. Crossing the 
Litany, or ancient Leontes, which flows from the fountain 
at Baalbec, we shortly beheld on one of the slopes at our 
left the reputed ruins of that house of Solomon which, we 
are told, was reared here in the forest of Lebanon. And 
now the pillars of the mighty fane at Baalbec grew 
more and more distinct ; but it was quite late in the after- 
noon ere we passed the little ruined temple outside the 
town, and turned, for a few moments, into the old quar- 
ry whence the gigantic blocks were hewn. Here, still 
lying on its native rock, though all ready to be detached 
and moved away, is the largest block of building-stone 
in the world. There it has lain for ages, until men have 
forgotten when, or by whom it was hewn. One thing 
alone is certain. It and the three like it in the temple 
wall half a mile away, were the products of an age of no 
mean abilities in engineering. This piece of Cyclopsean 
masonry measures some seventy feet in length, and prob- 



The Shadows of Lebanon. 



7i 



ably weighs between twelve and fifteen hundred tons ! I 
leaped upon it and scaled it in three dozen paces, from 
one end to the other. It is tilted upward and down its 
surface, if crusted with ice the sleds of a dozen urchins 
might ride abreast. Men have often wondered how such 
blocks as this were transported so far, and lifted so high 
to their places in the neighboring w T alls. There can be 
but one solution to the problem — the united strength of 
multitudes of men, and the inclined plane. 

But we were tired with our long day's ride and eager 
to reach our encampment, so we soon resumed our saddles, 
and in a few minutes were entering the miserable little 
town. A grave old Moslem in fur-trimmed 'aba, stood 
at the roadside to scan our cavalcade, while children ran 
hither and thither, yelling "backsheesh I" the one cry 
which, with them, begins in the cradle and ends in the 
grave. One little black-eyed girl, however, after timidly 
joining in the general shout, fell back abashed and blush- 
ing as she caught my eye, thereby displaying a modesty 
which deserves honorable mention ; inasmuch as, among 
some hundreds of juvenile beggars, I saw nothing like it 
afterwards, throughout the length and breadth of the 
land. 




THE CAMP AT BAALBEC. 



Our tents had been pitched within the ruins, the grand- 
est camping-ground that enthusiastic traveler could wish 
for, the quietest place that one could have for keeping 
the sacred day which was to follow r for it was now Satur- 
day afternoon. We entered the temple area through a 
long, dark passage way, in which we left our horses to 
take care of their feet, while we took care of our heads. 
Our camp was pitched under the north wall of the main 
court, giving us a beautiful prospect from our tent doors 
of the magnificent columns, and walls, and arches of the 
mighty and impressive ruin. In spite of our fatigue, we 
hastily made our ablutions, and then set out on a short, 
exploring tour to end with the hour for dinner. As care- 
fully as we had time to do, we studied these huge remains 
both inside and out, but I shall be wise enough to refer 
the reader to Wood or to Robinson, rather than presume 
myself upon the time and skill necessar} T to describe these 
vast details. The interior was anciently divided into a 
handsome portico on the east, two magnificent courts, 
whose united length was four hundred seventy-five feet, 
and two large temples of unequal size, the greater one 
being that erected to the god of day. Of this last there 
still remain standing six fine Corinthian columns, the 
giant watchers over these treasures of the ages. The 
three great stones in the west foundation were the 



The Camp at Baalbec. 73 



objects of wonder and interest to us all. Every one of 
them is over sixty feet long and twelve feet thick, and 
all have a position in the wall at a height of twent}^ feet 
from the ground. On the south side a large pillar of 
the portico of the smaller temple has toppled over, 
but making a mural indentation which serves as a 
stay, it remains thus held in its leaning position, an 
object of beauty and strength, forever nodding to its 
own fail, and arresting the admiration of the stranger. 
In many places the Saracenic inscription, as usual, defaces 
the walls, while the venerable stones are scattered not 
only throughout the enclosure itself, but through the nar- 
row alleys of the neighboring town. Over the elegant 
carvings and the sculptured frieze, the rootlets now rustle 
in the breezes of Lebanon ; and that evening, as we sat 
out door after dinner in the starlight, the influence of the 
spot stole softly over us, and filled us with an awe which 
could be again experienced only under the like conditions, 
domiciled as we were for the night beneath the very walls 
of a vast and silent ruin. 

The Sunday morning sun rose brilliantly and made the 
polished remnants of its ancient fane glow, as they had 
done for ages, in its ruddy rays. After breakfast sever- 
al of us went into town in search of a religious service, 
and, in the course of the forenoon, visited several of the 
village churches. Among them was the little Greek ca- 
thedral, at whose altar stood a priest in robes of violet 
hue. It was a rude but not unattractive temple. Along 
one side of it, beneath the rough, wooden ceiling, ran 
two latticed galleries for women, behind which a multi- 
tude of snow-white veils hung each like a protecting 
"power" on the head of its modest wearer. The walls 
and columns were whitewashed, and through a broken 
window in the clerestory the little birds came freely flit- 



74 



Days in the East. 



ting, reminding the thoughtful observer how even the 
sparrow had found her a nest within the temple courts. 
After watching the worshippers for a few moments, in 
the excess of their devotion, bending their lips and fore- 
heads to the floor, we adjourned to the church of the 
Maronites, the enemies of the Druse, a house of worship 
yet more plain. The steps which led to the little altar 
were of rough-hewn stone. A lattice work here also 
bisected the auditorium, and behind it knelt in prayer a 
Maronite nun. surrounded by a company of the women 
of the village. 

It being now nearly eleven, we went to the English 
mission-house, where we thought we might have the priv- 
ilege of hearing a service in our native tongue. But al- 
though we enjoyed a conversation in English with several 
members of the mission family, the service which soon 
followed was in the Arabic language. The congregation 
was very small, comprising some girls belonging to the 
school, ourselves and one or two natives from the village. 
One old Arab gave his closest attention to the preacher, 
the meanwhile bestowing frequent nods and grunts of 
approbation. The sermonizer, on his own part, bestow- 
ed upon his interested auditor the bulk of his discourse, 
and afforded what was certainly the most striking exam- 
ple I have ever witnessed, of what is called • -direct" 
preaching. 

The day was too hot to admit of our moving about 
much ; but in the cool of the evening we strolled past 
the temple of Venus and the ruined mosque. — among 
whose broken pillars, once pilfered from the great tem- 
ple, goats and cattle now browse undisturbed, — until we 
reached the banks of a clear and purling stream. Along 
a broad and shady avenue we traced it to its source, the 
lucid fountain of Baalbec, on whose grassy margin a 



The Camp at Baalbec. 75 

group of picturesque, native girls were making their even- 
ing meal. We were half-inclined to apologize for dis- 
turbing them, but their good-natured smiles and courtesy 
soon set us at our ease. The water from this bountiful 
spring flows close beside the ruins amid which our tents 
were pitched, and its sweet murmur adds much to the 
fascination of the place, especially when the shades of 
night are falling. Perched upon a high fragment of wall, 
I watched, that Sunday night in Baalbec, the panorama 
of a glowing sunset. Far across the valley the snow 
sparkled high on Lebanon, near where the famous cedars 
grow, and where Sunnin lifts his bold outline against the 
sky. At such an hour one wonders whether the eye of 
Joshua ever indeed looked out over this same scene, and 
whether Baalbec be really, as some affirm, the Baal-gad 
of the Bible. 



FROM BAALBEC TO DAMASCUS. 



At early dawn, on Monday, we were rapidly making 
our way out of Baalbec. and. passing the Moslem ceme- 
tery on the outskirts, directed our course towards the as- 
cent of the Anti-Lebanon. Eed sand, endless rocks, 
caverns and tombs, grazing camels, and here and there 
a forlorn looking village. — made up the leading features 
of a desolate and almost deserted region. At one period 
of our march. Ibrahim pointed out to us at a distance 
the tomb of Seth ; but we were not so filled with regret 
as we might have been, in the lack of opportunity for 
closer inspection : the tomb of this son of Adam being 
full thirty feet shorter than that of Xoah. which we had 
seen. Soon after we crossed an old Eoman bridge, — 
where, in our wanderings, did we not see some traces of 
this world-wide power? and at noon threw ourselves down 
to rest beside the clear and cooling spring of Ain Hawar. 
After luncheon I stood under the shade of a tree, making 
some notes with a pencil, when a Moslem father with a 
child in his arms, came and earnestly looked over my 
shoulder, scanning the chirograph}' with the deepest won- 
der. No doubt our habits and ways of doing things are 
as strange to them as theirs are to us. And certainly 
they cannot understand, as they plainly say. why people 
should begin to read or write from the left hand of the 



From Baalbec to Damascus. 77 



page, when it is so much easier and more natural to begin 
at the right. 

Again in the saddle, we rode past the edge of the little 
town where the lounging inhabitants sat upon their low 
housetops and gazed idly at us as we passed. At fre- 
quent intervals, presses for molasses — like those of old 
for wine and oil, appeared, hewn in the rock; and oc- 
casionally a red-legged partridge would start up and go 
skimming over the tops of the neighboring ridges. But 
more serious matters began to engage our attention. All 
day long the clouds had been lowering and now the first 
drops of the coming storm began to beat upon our heads. 
We unstrapped our mackintoshes and prepared as well as 
we could to withstand the rain which now came down in 
torrents. But it was to little purpose. In Syria it sel- 
dom rains but it pours, and in a few minutes we were 
prett}^ completely drenched. To add to the discomfort 
of our situation, we soon reached the brow of a declivity 
so steep that it was imprudent to try to ride the horses 
down the descent and so, dismounting, we slid down on 
our feet as best we could, dragging our dispirited steeds 
after us through the mud and stones. We now crossed 
one of the foaming branches of the little river Barada, 
the Abana of Scripture, and paced silently along the 
deserted and shelterless road toward Zebedani, near 
which we were to encamp. At one stage of the journey 
we passed a Mohammedan mother, trudging along bare- 
foot under the soaking shower and carrying on her shoul- 
der a little child which, in spite of the deluge, appeared 
to be sleeping soundly. My feet, which were completely 
wet through, had grown so cold that I was obliged to de- 
scend and walk ; but luckily it was now not far to the 
camping-ground. When we reached the spot, however, 
the tents were not yet up. The ground and much of the 



78 



Days in the East. 



equipage itself were completely soaked. ^Ve sat clown 
on boxes and bundles where we could and drawing off 
boots and socks, began chafing our numbed feet until 
such time as the luggage could be made accessible and 
some dry clothing obtained. We were all wet and chilled 
beyond even the power of cognac and quinine to relieve. 
But in course of time, the tents were set up, a fire kin- 
dled, a few shots fired to apprise the thieving villagers of 
our means of defence, and a dinner cooked which gave 
us great comfort and satisfaction and under the trying 
circumstances, reflected credit on all concerned in its 
preparation. 

We went to bed that night on soaked carpets and slept 
between damp sheets. How thankful we were that there 
were no ladies nor invalids in our party ! After a long 
night of shivering and discomfort, we rose early and 
going to our tent-doors were greeted with a more cheerful 
picture of a clear sky and thick mist rising rapidly from 
ground white with frost. The camp-servants — poor fel- 
loes — and the horses and mules as well, presented a 
sorry sight, as bedraggled and woe-begone in their 
appearance as one would care to see. Mahmood, who 
usuallv saddled my horse in the morning, bade me feel 
his clothes in which he had slept all that night out of 
doors, and I could easily Lave wrung the water from the 
sleeves of his 'aba. But by the time we were leaving the 
fruitful gardens of Zebedani, things began to wear a 
more cheerful aspect. The sun shone stronger and both 
men and beasts began to brighten up. Our journey still 
lav through scenery similar to that of yesterday. We 
traversed the valley of the Barada through a rugged and 
romantic gorge whose waterfalls were tumbling and dash- 
ins: from the rocks. In the course of the forenoon we 
passed beneath one hill on the top of which, high over- 



From Baalbec to Damascus. 79 



head, our dragoman informed us that Abel was buried. 
Amid these desolate hills some have thought that the 
Garden of Eden lay, but it needs the widest possible 
stretch of the imagination to adjust the one to the other. 
In this neighborhood also we passed above the little Arab 
town of Suk, lying picturesquely in its valley below. In 
older times it was Abila, head city of that district of 
Abilene of which Lysanias was tetrarch in the Gospel 
era. All through the gorge we noticed innumerable 
caves and retreats, hewn like the dwellings of the Edom- 
ites, in the very "face of the rock," and reminding us of 
the romantic history of a bygone race. After an hour's 
farther march over the toilsome road we arrived at the 
beautiful fountain of El Fijeh, whose sparkling waters, 
leaping forth from the base of a ruined Roman temple, 
add their volume to that of the Barada a few yards away. 
There, in a shady grove just where the two lucid cur- 
rents unite their streams, we sat down to lunch. The 
repast being over M. and D. stripped and plunged into 
the rapid waters, but were fain to cut short a rather icy 
bath. We abridged our hour of rest for the purpose of 
visiting the hill of Kasiun on our way into Damascus 
and we were soon threading om way again among the 
rocky defiles, and now and then traversing the chief alley 
of a squalid Moslem village. Presently, we came upon 
a little glade by the river side and were interested in a 
scene which, at that early stage of our journey, still wore 
the charm of novelty. Two Arabs had spread their 
mats upon the soft turf and having made their ablutions 
in the river, were now, with faces set toward Mecca, 
going through with all the various postures and petitions 
of their complicated prayers. The dark clouds now be- 
gan again to flit across the sky and mindful of our expe- 
rience the day before, we at once quickened our horses' 



8o 



Days in the East. 



steps. Biding through Durnar, with its lazy men and 
industrious women, we turned and ascended the hills. 
After scaling slope after slope and finding no Damascus 
visible at the top, we at last caught sight of the "dome 
of the camel-driver," our objective point, on a hill-top 
which we reached in fifteen minutes across the interven- 
ing valley. As we reined up beside the old ruin, what a 
view burst on our sight ! In sharp contrast to the rocky 
wilderness through which we had been picking our way, 
there stretched out almost from our feet a magnificent 
oasis of emerald verdure set within a circle of brown 
and arid sand. Interlacing its leafy groves and flowery 
gardens, ran hither and thither like silver threads, the 
clear, cool waters of the Abana and Pharpar, rivers of 
Damascus. And in the midst of this mass of foliage lay, 
like a pearl in a group of emeralds, the queen city of the 
desert itself, its white domes and minarets glowing 
in the last rays of an Oriental sun. Afar off against the 
eastern sky rose the hills around Palm}Ta, while in front 
of us rolled away the great plain over which went and 
came the caravans of Bagdad, thirty days' journey into 
the interior. On the spot where we stood Abram is said, 
by the Mohammedans, to have had revealed to him the 
great doctrine of the Unity of God. And on this spot 
Mohammed, while yet a camel-driver, stood and gazing 
upon Damascus for a moment, turned away and refused 
to enter the city saying, "Man can have but one Para- 
dise, and mine is fixed above 1" 

We were more courageous than the prophet, neverthe- 
less, and with calm resolution descended slowly into the 
city. But the prophet was wiser than we, if he wished 
to preserve his first impressions. Passing through an 
old gateway, we splashed along the narrow filthy streets, 
full of unsavoiy mixtures, crowded with blear-eyed men, 



From Baalbec to Damascus. 



81 



frowsy women and dirt-encrusted children, until at one 
point in the unwholesome lab} 7 rinth, we stumbled upon 
the comfortable Hotel Dimitri which every traveler, 
whether he hails from BejTOut or Jerusalem, is glad to 
see. U A glad good-bye to our tents and horses for a 
day or two," we said to one another in mutual congratu- 
lation, as we stood beside the fountain under the orange 
trees in the open court. The little wicket, set in the 
great heavy door which told its own tale of defence against 
possible insurrections, had admitted us into what seemed 
a little Paradise. And after dinner, we lay down to 
sweet repose while the rustling leaves of orange and 
oleander, and murmuring waters sang our lullaby. 




THE "PEARL OF THE EAST." 



Damascus, the "pearl of the East," as it has been de- 
servedly styled, is thought to be the oldest city in the 
world. It is claimed, indeed, that from its plain was 
taken the red earth from which Adam was created ; and 
here it is implied, in I King Henry, VI. 1.3., that Cain 
slew Abel. Built by Uz, the grandson of Noah, it is 
mentioned in the first book of the Bible as the native 
place of Eliezer — Abram's steward. It has many Bibli- 
cal associations to which, however, we can barely allude. 
It was conquered by David and assailed by Ahab and 
Jeroboam . It figures in the histories of Elijah and Elisha. 
It was denounced by Jeremiah and scathed in the burn- 
ing words of Amos. It was the place of durance vile to 
many a Jewish captive. And more interesting than all, 
it has a name which is forever bound up with the stor}' 
of St. Paul's wonderful conversion somewhere on its 
plain. As u old as history, as fresh as spring," what an 
aged story it has yet the power to unfold ! There has 
always been a Damascus, ever since human chronicles 
began. The queen of the Orient has never, like Jerusa- 
lem, been dethroned. Within the memory of man she 
has always stood there, amid her orchards and gardens 
and fountains and flowers, even as she does now. 



The "Pearl of the East!' 83 



All through the waking intervals of our first night in 
this strange, solemn city we could hear the shrill whistle 
of the lonely watchman, as, out of the dark and unlight- 
ed streets, he lifted his lantern and signalled to his mates. 
The gates of the city are shut at dark and woe be to you, 
if you, a stranger, are left without the walls, especially 
if you have not a light. For the customary cry of "Open, 
O watchman !" may then go all unheeded. Nothing is 
more oppressive than the solemn silence of an Oriental 
city after ten p. m. At least so it seemed to us, as, pre- 
ceded by a cavass with a lantern, we returned from a 
native entertainment at the hour of midnight. The streets 
were as dark as a pocket and one could hardly see to 
avoid stepping upon the sleeping dogs which at every 
turn encumbered the pathway. The bazars — places 
teeming with human life six hours before — were now as 
still and ghostly as a graveyard, their gates shut and 
closely guarded. In the East people go to bed at dark 
and get up at dawn ; at least, until a change comes with 
the intrusion of Western manners. 

Our first excursion in this quaint old city was made 
among the bazars — in the immediate vicinity of which 
stood our hotel. As 3-ou leave the wicket and turn to 
the right, you soon enter the horse-market wherein at 
certain times you may see for sale Bedouin steeds with 
fiery nostrils and eyes that shine like those of a wild ga- 
zelle before the wind. Along the slippery streets leading 
thence — avenues in which we could sometimes with dif- 
ficulty keep our feet — we found our way to that gigantic 
plane-tree which is said to have sprung from a stick thrust 
into the ground by a prophet's hand. The girth of the 
enormous trunk is full sixteen yards and before it hangs 
a lamp, devoting it to the faithful as a shrine. Near it 
is the saddle-bazar, which we next visited, full of gaudy 



8 4 



Days hi the East. 



colored equipments of Eastern horses and through whose 
narrow streets long processions of gaunt, thoughtful-look- 
ing camels were continually passing in single file. Each 
of these unwieldy animals, like those of the Midianites, 
carried its bell and a string of beads and shells as orna- 
ments upon its neck. In an adjoining street came a c rand 
array of Bedouin swords and spears and armour for sale ; 
but we searched in vain for a genuine Damascus blade 
that, like those of old, could be bent double. 

But what daily scenes did these various^ bazars of sad- 
dlers and armourers and silversmiths and silk-sellers and 
the rest present to our wondering eyes ! What motley 
throngs of Persians, Nubians, Bedouins, Greeks and 
Jews, uttering "confusion worse confounded" with their 
tongues, hurried to and fro amid those little cage-like 
shops ! What articles of every shape and hue and design 
lay temptingly displayed around their merchant owners — 
themselves, the meanwhile, squatting each in his own 
booth upon his parti-colored rug. There were snow- 
white cottons and showy silks, red and }~ellow keffiyehs 
and black and white abaiyehs, rich oil of roses and green 
henna, silver filagree and glittering work in polished 
brass, bright-colored sweets and hard honey cut into 
cakes and all sorts of dishes and of stuffs which an Arab 
could desire either to eat, or wear. 

There is one thing very noticeable about the bazars 
and merchants of Damascus. At Smyrna and Beyrout 
we had been earnestly importuned by the native mer- 
chants to purchase their wares. Not so here. We might 
do as we pleased ; for no one of these scowling Arabs 
seemed to care much whether he handled an unbeliever's 
gold. So they sat and kept on reading the Koran as we 
passed, or smoking their chibouques , or chatting with 
their neighbors, waiting no doubt for Allah to send them 



The "Pearl of the East!' 



85 



a patron in the person of some true child of the prophet. 
Damascus bears no good will toward the Christians. A 
wholesome fear of the arms of France and England has 
alone induced her to keep the peace. In 1860, she arose 
and massacred some hundreds of her Christian inhabitants 
in cold blood ; and it is an achievement which she is not 
unanxious to repeat. We saw the ill-starred minaret, not 
far from the grim old citadel, from which the signal for 
that fatal carnage rang out and the spot upon which the 
leading perpetrators were made, by foreign interference, 
to expiate their crime. The cit} 7 boasts that since the 
Moslem occupation no Christian banner ever floated over 
its walls, and it is exceedingly jealous of its reputation. 
It was the home of the 4 ^ wild beast," Tamerlane; and 
he seems to have left behind him his own bloodthirsty 
spirit to haunt its atmosphere. 

The streets of Damascus, both in and out of the ba- 
zars, are so replete with features and incidents of interest 
that they almost deserve a chapter by themselves. For 
the most part, the} T are narrow, crooked and crowded 
with all sorts of the world's characters. It is a motle} 7 
picture which they present and hard to describe, save as 
one would write off a catalogue. Fierce dark Bedouins — 
with their little uncomely wives — the latter plentifully 
tattooed, and with faces free from the veils worn by their 
more civilized sisters of the city — the maidens of Damas- 
cus in rich attire, wearing silver nose-rings and with their 
dreamy eyes just distinguishable beneath the yashmak's 
folds— importunate beggars of both sexes whose ever- 
lasting cry is always somewhere in the air — troops of 
children shouting — laughing — crying — their grimy cheeks 
furrowed o'er by tear drops — and the flies settling undis- 
turbed in a dense black rim around the edges of each one 
of their diseased eyes — the man who in some obscure 



86 



Days in the East. 



angle of the wall parches corn on a little stove and sells 
it for a fewparate an ear, the donkey-driver yelling sharply 
behind you, " dahrak" ! "dahrak" ! "you back" ! "you 
back" ! and barely giving you time to get out of the way 
of his scurrying animals — the street dervish bare to his 
waist and from that upward a single mass of filth and 
matted hair — the baker's boy ciying in Arabic : "Allah 
doth nourish; buy thou my bread!" — the water seller 
screaming: "Refresh thine heart!" the group of idlers 
playing at back-gammon under the wall in the narrow 
street — these were some of the characters with whom 
we came daily into contact as often as we took our 
walks abroad. Hither and thither we dodged — among 
the mangy, scurvy dogs which lay all around under foot — 
among stalking camels some of them laden with long 
beams of wood dangerous to hats and even brains, into 
this khan and that school, here a Turkish bath and there 
#n Arab smithy — beneath latticed balconies that from 
opposite sides of the street almost touched each other 
overhead, and ever discovering something new and inter- 
esting in all places, in and out of the way. We visited, 
among others, two or three of the houses of wealthy 
Damascenes. One of these, which belonged to a Jew of 
position, was like a little palace on the inside. Its fur- 
niture and ornamentation was of the richest kind, chairs 
and couches of inlaid pearl, fine marble floors, profuse 
gildings, intricate carvings — mirrors of costly execution 
and grand proportions. In connection with it was a 
little family s}'nagogue over whose outer wall climbed the 
fragrant jessamine and within whose interior we found 
the necessary appurtenances of a Rabbi at his prayers and 
an ample library. And yet I can easily imagine that 
such an abode, without means of heating, pleasant as it 
was in the warm sunshine of that autumn morning, must 



The "Pearl of the East." 



87 



be cheerless and dismal enough under the cold rains of 
early spring. 

Of course we visited the street "called" straight, as a 
well-known facetious traveler suggests, but which in 
reality is straight, only because it lies among the maz} r 
windings of an Oriental city. It has its distinction sim- 
ply by contrast. In one of its recesses we found the 
house of Judas and not only that, but the very fountain 
in which St. Paul is said to have been christened. Out- 
side the wall we saw also one of the reputed places of his 
conversion and the window from which he was let down 
safety in a basket ; but I cannot say that our faith in all 
these things was unwavering. Entering again the old 
Roman gate, we came to the place where once stood the 
house of Ananias. It is now a dozen feet or more under- 
ground. After waiting some time for abortive efforts to 
find the key which was missing, we summoned our Arab 
retainers together in the court-yard, rigged up a ladder, 
lowered it through a window on the subterranean stair- 
case and thereon descended into the room below. This 
is now fitted up as a little chapel and lighted by one or 
two hanging lamps. There was nothing worthy of note, 
however, and we soon hurried back into daylight. The 
last thing on the list of those places connected with Scrip- 
ture to which we paid a visit was the reputed house of 
Naaman, outside the walls ; a building now appropriately 
turned into a hospital for lepers. 

While on this round, our way led us into the neighbor- 
hood of several cemeteries, both Mahomedan and Chris- 
tian. In one of them lies Buckle — a master mind whose 
lamp went out here in his distant place of exile. His 
was a sad fate, but he lies not alone in this far comer of 
the world. The fever which lurks in the miasmatic air 
has done its work on others who entered Syria in } T outh 



88 



Days in the East. 



and health and now sleep beneath the cypress shade. 
But, more deadly even than the fever, the dripping scim- 
itar of the Moslem has filled mam' a Christian grave in 
the same neighborhood. All around the tomb of the 
good St. George— he who aided Paul in his escape — they 
lie, those oblong sepulchres, void even of the symbol of 
the cross and all broken and defaced by Mohammedan 
fanaticism. 



MORE OF DAMASCUS. 



Passing- along the ancient walls in whose shade knelt the 
camels of Bagdad just freed from their burdens of rich 
carpets and tumhak, we found in another graveyard the 
tombs of Mahomet's wives and daughters beneath a plain 
and ugly dome of brown plaster. Not far from these 
stands the mausoleum of one of the prophet's mortal en- 
emies, literally covered with a mass of small stones heaped 
upon it by the scorn of the faithful. Here I first noticed 
the custom of reading the Koran over the grave of the 
newly-deceased. Under a rude awning stretched upon 
poles, sat a group of white veiled women, the most of 
them probably the wives and sisters of him around whose 
tomb they were engaged in praying, and reading, and 
weeping. This going to the grave to weep there, seems 
to be a prevalent custom among the Arabs for a certain 
length of time after the death occurs. 

The last sj'stematic excursion which we made in Dam- 
ascus under the guidance of our local cicerone, was that 
to the great mosque. This, like most other great tem- 
ples of Islam was once a Christian church built by the 
Empress Helena. It may be that on its site once rose 
the house of Rimmon in which Naaman begged for par- 
don when he bowed down beside his master. And here, 
too, perhaps, King Ahaz saw the altar of which he wished 



90 Days in the East. 

to have a copy for Jerusalem. At the door of the outer 
court of the mosque we gave our boots in charge and put 
on each a pair of shabby yellow slippers. In these we 
made our way rather awkwardly across the rough stone 
floor which, in some places, however, was covered with 
rugs and carpets The interior of the mosque is noble 
and impressive, but its solemnity is somewhat marred 
by features which do not harmonize easily with our own 
ideas of a place of worship. Great, green battle-flags 
drooped from either side of the Imauni's pulpit, and here 
and there upon the matted floor weary devotees lay sound 
asleep and snoring. Overhead among the arches and 
capitals and in and out through the high, open windows, 
numerous pigeons were flying about and roosting any- 
where their caprice suggested. After inspecting to our 
satisfaction the colored windows and mosaic walls, we 
took a modest sip from the large well in the nave called 
that of St. John Baptist. Then, merely glancing at the 
neighboring tomb which is said to contain the head — 
there are two others, one in Amiens cathedral and one 
in some Italian church — of the great Forerunner — we 
passed out into the large court followed by a curious 
troop of Arab children. On one of the great brazen 
doors which still swing here on their hinges, I was 
somewhat surprised to see engraven what appeared to be 
a Christian emblem — the chalice of the Holy Eucharist. 
It was the unnoticed relic of the days of another Faith. 
It is also said that somewhere upon the stones of this 
mosque there remains, singularly enough, an old Chris- 
tian inscription which reminds him who reads of a truth 
which no false prophet can annul : "Thy Kingdom is an 
everlasting Kingdom ! " 

Followed by our juvenile friends who, to our annoy- 
ance, still clattered over the stones behind us, we walked 



More of Damascus. 



9i 



beyond the plashing fountain in the centre of the area, 
and ascended the western minaret for a view of the 
mosque and city. From the top we beheld a panorama 
which stretched away for miles on eve^ side. Imme- 
diately around us were the dull, mud-colored, flat-roofed 
houses, closely huddled together amid their verdant bow- 
ers and sparkling streams ; while, on one side of the dis- 
tant horizon, towered Lebanon and Hermon, and on the 
other glowed, beneath the broiling Eastern sun, a broad 
sea of sand. To this contrast between life and death — 
the barren and the fertile, my thoughts reverted when I 
afterwards stood upon the top of the great pyramid and 
looked out over the Arabian and Libyan deserts with the 
valley of the Nile between. One easily sees from such 
points of vision what water, and nothing else, can ac- 
complish in making glad the solitary places and causing 
the wilderness to blossom as the rose. Before descend- 
ing, we bestowed a careful glance upon the two other 
minarets of the mosque, than which there are none more 
beautiful in all the East. That of "the Bride" is taste- 
fully adorned in the lighter colors, while the minaret of 
Jesus, hardly less graceful, loses its intrinsic interest in 
its ancient tradition that upon it Jesus will descend at 
the last day to help Mahomet judge the world. 

In a city like Damascus the Moslem religion appears at 
its best. It is a faith and worship, indeed, which shows 
to little advantage in rural districts where the mosques 
are poor and infrequent and the hours of prayer irreg- 
ularly observed. But in the large towns the call of the 
muezzin goes forth from the crescent-tipped minaret five 
times daily, from dawn till sunset. There is much that 
is impressive in the dignity and solemnity of their wor- 
ship, in the zeal with which the Koran is memorized 
and the courage with which prayer is offered when the 



9 2 



Days in the East. 



time conies, regardless of persons and circumstances, 
and just where the worshiper happens to be. There is 
a question of taste, no doubt, concerning this obtrusion 
of private devotions in the face of men ; but still there 
is in it an open and courageous avowal of principles to 
which, it must be confessed, many of a better faith are 
strangers. I do not purpose by comparisons either to 
exalt or defend a false religion, but when you have said 
all there is to be said about Pharasaism aud insincerity, 
there are yet some lessons which the disciples of Christ 
may stoop to learn from those of Mahomet. In the 
course of carrying out the Apostle's maxim to "pray 
without ceasing*' we may. prehaps, find help in copying 
the spirit of the Mohammedan who is not ashamed to 
pray anywhere and whom I, myself, remember to have 
seen more than once going through his devotions in the 
valley and on the hill-top ; by the brook-side and on the 
steamer's deck ; in the mosque and in his own house ; in 
his shop and in the public park of a crowded city like 
Cairo. And though, to curse a Jew. or a Christian is 
a part of his religion, he does not forget his own poor 
and is no niggard in his alms when asked to give for the 
erection, or ornamentation of a mosque. 

During the last hours of our short stay in Damascus 
we paid a shopping visit to the bazars and came away 
with considerably less money than we carried in. No- 
where else are the shops more tempting, if it is also true 
that nowhere else are the shop-keepers surlier. We met 
the Rev. Mr. Crawford, who seldom lets an American or 
Englishman go through Damascus without a cordial 
greeting ; and at his suggestion visited several mission 
chapels and schools where we heard sweet singing in both 
Arabic and English and which, like all the best-directed 
missions of the East, are taking hold of the young. We 



More of Damascus. 



93 



did not forget even to visit old u Ahu antika " the "father 
of antiquities," another character of the city and give the 
gray old Arab some modern gold in exchange for certain 
of his curious odds and ends which we carried off as 
mementoes of our visit. And when all these things 
were accomplished, we went home to pack our luggage 
and get a good night's rest, preparatory to an early start 
on the following morning. 



OVER THE SLOPES OF HERMON. 



It was a Friday morning on which we left Damascus 
and bent our course southward toward the land of Israel. 
We rode quietly along beneath the old brown walls, now 
watching the Arab dyers spreading out their cloth upon 
the grass, now listening to the dripping noise of huge 
wooden water-wheels. For some time we were obliged 
closely to escort the luggage over the lonely road. But 
an occasional mounted Bedouin armed with gun and sword 
or a herd of grazing camels were, besides ourselves, al- 
most the only living figures on the landscape. Before 
us snow-capped Hermon, at whose feet we expected that 
night to sleep, was once more lifting high his reverend 
head. About six miles from the city we felt sure that 
we had before us the more probable scene upon which 
the eyes of the great Apostle of the Gentiles rested dur- 
ing those minutes just before his wonderful conversion. 
And as we turned in our saddles to look back upon it, 
we saw, as St. Paul may have done, the proud city in 
its sea of verdure, shining in the noontide sun. At the 
hour of rest we heard as we lunched, the solemn call of 
the muezzin as, from the minaret of a neighboring village, 
it came floating toward us through the olives. But we 
were hardly in a mood to enjoy our surroundings, for one 
of the most valuable horses in the party, which had hard- 
ly gotten on since morning, now died, in spite of all our 
efforts to save him. Such an accident, as is generally 



Over the Slopes of Hermon. 



95 



the case, subjected us to sore inconvenience because of 
the difficulty of replacing the animal at a distance from 
home. However, Ibrahim gave up his own horse to 

McG whose steed had fallen, and we jogged on. 

Bye and bye, Mount Hermon put on his dark storm-clouds 
and the rain began to descend in true Syrian st} r le. 
Fortunately, however, the day's journey was short, and 
We soon reached our tents which had been pitched for us 
under the silver poplars of Kefr Hawar, and not far from 
the spot where, it is said, the hunter Nimrod lies interred. 

After amusing ourselves with firing a few shots from 
our revolvers at a troop of jackals which went slinking 
off among the rocks across the valley, we set our native 
guard and retired to rest. But it was a wretched night 
The rain came down in torrents and penetrated even the 

double roof of the canvas above our heads. D awoke 

in the night to find that a tent pin on his side of the tent 
had pulled out from the moistened turf and, through the 
drooping canvas, the water was dripping copiously upon 
his bed. A lusty shout brought help from the Arabs, 
who succeeded in replacing the pin, but not in restoring 

comfort to poor D . The air, moreover, was very 

cold ; and when, at daybreak, there was a temporary lull 
in the storm, we looked out upon Hermon covered, far 
above us, with a robe of bright and freshly-fallen snow. 
By the time we were in our damp saddles, the driving mist 
again thickened into rain and we rode in cheerless silence 
along the narrow rocky road which winds beside the 
Pharpar. In such weather we cared not for our usual 
noonday pause, but pushed on past the little town of 
Beit Jenn, lying deep in its vale beside the noisy stream, 
and turning to the left, began to climb, among rocks and 
stones of black basalt, one of the slopes of Mount Her- 
mon. We were traversing the same way by which the 



9 6 



Days in the East. 



invading kings fled from the vengeful sword of Abram. 
Higher and higher we went, while the mist grew thicker 
and thicker. Bye and bye we discovered signs of per- 
plexity in front, and shortly after the guide was obliged 
to confess that he had lost his waj\ Here was a pretty 
situation ! We were astray on the mountain, somewhere 
near the highest point of the pass, and yet not able to 
discover that particular one of several little, narrow, 
beaten tracks, which served as the main highway. The 
sweeping deluge smote us in the face. The horses wheel- 
ed and refused to advance before the elements. We 
should have grown imperious in our demands for shelter, 
no matter where, but shelter there was none. Not a 
tree, nor house, nor ledge of rock large enough to crawl 
under, could be discerned — nothing but the bleak, bare 
mountain side. After wandering about helplessly for an 
hour, the fog lifted enough to give Ibrahim his bearings 
once more ; and we finally got as far down the pass as 
the Druse village of Mejdel es Shems, on the road to Ba- 
nias, or Caesarea Philippi, where we had intended to pitch 
our Sunday camp. We had already ridden through this 
village when the mist came down again upon the hills. 
Ibrahim now gave up in despair, saying that the road 
was dangerous and he could not be certain of the path 
and offering, if we were willing, to find us such quarters 
as he could in the village just behind. We were willing, 
enough, all wet and bedraggled as we were, to have taken 
shelter anywhere until the storm had ceased. Moreover 
the mules and luggage were, no one knew how far be- 
hind, and we should find no camp at Banias. So back 
we turned and purchased possession of the best house 
in the village until Monday morning. It was a small 
building of rough stone in which there was not a single 
pane of glass, no chimney, no furniture, save a few old 



Over the Slopes of Hermon. 



97 



rugs and carpets, and rude utensils for cooking. We 
gathered around the charcoal brazier on the earth}- floor 
and sat weeping in the smoke, which ascended slowly 
among the blackened saplings of the roof, until, as it was 
getting dark, our camp-equipage arrived. The baggage- 
train had also missed its way, and much of the canvas 
and bedding was damp. But we soon had our beds spread 
upon the floor, and Joseph, the steward, prepared us a 
very respectable meal from our own larder. After dinner 
we all lay down to sleep in the same room, the rain falling 
dismally outside. But over the horrors of that night a 
veil may well be drawn. We shall always associate it 
with all we have ever heard of u pre-occupied," chambers 
and "the pestilence that walketh in darkness." Yet this 
is the only kind of shelter to be had on the long journey 
between Damascus and Jerusalem, save the traveler's 
own camp and an occasional convent. There is but one 
hotel, that at Tiberias, an inn which is, however, hardly 
less than a libel on the name. 

Incessant floods of rain shut us in nearly the whole of 
the next day, which was Sunday. But late in the after- 
noon, as we sat shivering at the unglazed window-seat, 
it began to clear. The servants now set up the tents for 
the purpose of drying them as much as possible before 
repacking for the morrow's journey ; while several of our- 
selves, directed by the tinkling of a little bell, found our 
way to a small chapel hitherto unnoticed. Here a serv- 
ice w r as just beginning, the preacher and his handful of 
auditors being all natives of the place. This mission 
and others like it are the offshoots of that at Beyrout. 
It was a singular scene this Christian service in that se- 
cluded Druse village on the mountain, but it was refresh- 
ing to know that even there the name of Christ was dear 
to some who cared not for the name of Mahomet. 



98 



Days in the East. 



After another night of misery and unrest, we were 
glad to find ourselves descending the rough and rugged 
road which leads down to Banias and the lovely plain of 
the Huleh where Merorn's waters sparkled in the sun. 
Before us stretched the hills of Napthali bounding in the 
near horizon, and soon we had in full view at our right, 
the huge grim castle of Subeibeh standing guard over the 
pass from Huleh to Damascus. We had to be content, 
how r ever, without a nearer view of this fortress and rode 
rapidly down the slope till we reined up and dismounted 
in a grove of olives at its foot. We were now among 
the ruins of Caesarea Philippi, and gazing upon the same 
scene whereon the Saviour's eyes had doubtless rested. 
This is the proper termination of the Holy Land on the 
north, and beyond it, it is probable, our Lord never went. 
Here it was that Peter made his bold confession and re- 
ceived the Saviour's special charge to feed his flock. Here, 
tradition says, Christ healed the woman who suffered with 
the bloody issue. And here also, on one of these rugged 
slopes of Hermon, rather than on Tabor, occurred the 
great scene of the Transfiguration, followed by the heal- 
ing in the city of the demon-tortured boy. Close by is 
one of the chief sources of the Jordan, and to this we now 
made our way and quenched our thirst in its copious and 
lucid torrent. It was a place where we could have stayed 
to meditate beneath the oaks and olives and listen to the 
noisy impatience of the sacred stream, but the day's 
march had been lengthened by the mishaps of Saturday, 
and forbade delay. So we pushed on through the miser- 
able modern village, in whose rude market square an 
occasional cow is slaughtered and then sold in fragments 
on the spot, and were glad once more to be in the un- 
tainted air. We crossed another branch of the Jordan 
springs by a rough stone bridge, and after riding some 



Over the Slopes of Hermon. 99 



distance farther, passed on our left the old oak marking 
the site of the city of Dan, where Jeroboam reared his 
idols. Leaving this tell of Dan behind us, we cautiously 
picked our way among the round and slippery stones 
which were almost as bad as an adder in the path for the 
unwary rider ; and at noon gained the shadow of a crumb- 
ling Roman bridge over the Hasbany, where we stopped 
to rest. While lying within the shadow of the arch, some 
Bashbazouks came galloping overhead, on their way 
southward, and were followed closely by our baggage- 
train which we always endeavored to have ahead of us in 
the afternoon, in order that the camp might be ready for 
us on our own arrival. During the afternoon, our way lay 
along the low and fertile plain of Huleh. The Bedouins, 
as usual, were there in force, their black tents and huge 
cattle dotting the plain. As we passed these nomad vil- 
lages, we saw their women at the tent door grinding at the 
mill between the upper and the nether mill stone, while 
dogs barked, hens cackled, and troops of unwashed chil- 
dren ran after us and rent the air with yells for backsheesh. 

All over the plain of Huleh these Bedouins find a de- 
sirable camping ground and their tents of sackcloth and 
straw matting form, in realUy, more or less permanent 
villages. Among their rude dwellings, goats, hens and 
dogs run together, and children, with shaven heads and 
little curled top-knots, roll and tumble in the dirt. Scores 
of dusky cattle graze about, while near the tents, camels 
lie in groups, and corn in great golden piles. We were 
pleasantly greeted with courteous smiles which lighted 
up the dark features of the people as we rode along ; but 
we did not suffer ourselves to forget, while in their neigh- 
borhood, that they all belonged to a race by no means 
trustworthy. We passed within sight of Maachah, once 
laid waste by Syrians and Assyrians ; and Beth-Rehob, 



IOO 



Days in the East. 



on the top of a ridge which rose before us. Toward 
evening the rain began again to threaten us : the last, as 
it proved, of our unpleasant experiences with the weather 
on this present trip. We were glad, indeed, to be saying 
good-bye to Hermon, which we had now fairly left behind 
us, because it had seemed so prolific of storms. Our 
tents were set up in a heavy shower, but before bed-time 
came, the moon was shining brightly in a clear sky. 
The neighborhood was, however, damp and dangerous, 
for we slept that night b}' the side of the great marshes 
of Merom, half-hidden by the thickest of fogs. All 
through the night we heard the jackals' wail and obtained 
indifferent sleep, but on the bright sunny morn our spirits 
rose, especial 1}' when we remembered that on that day 
we were, for the first time in our lives, to set our eyes 
upon the sea of Galilee. AYe breakfasted by lamplight, 
and by dawn the camp had well nigh disappeared beneath 
the active hands of the Arabs. Leaving them to follow, 
we took our course southward toward the limpid spring 
of Ain Mellaha, watching the red glow of the sun over 
the Hauran and thinking of the time when Joshua led 
his victorious armies across the plain and bulls of Bashan 
came to drink and wallow in the lake. A mazar on the 
hill-top, with its dome of glistening white, was pointed 
out as the place where, according to Moslem tradition, the 
great successor of Moses lies buried. But we heeded 
not. We were now at a point from which we looked back 
for the last time upon the waters of Merom. A little 
way farther on, where the lentils grew profusely, we 
found another point of vantage whence we looked down 
upon the unruffled bosom of that holy lake whose name 
goes hand in hand with ; that of Jesus through the world 
— the lake of Gennesaret. But our journey along its 
sacred shores -deserves .to form a subject by itself. 



THE SEA OF GALILEE. 



How beautiful the little sheet of water lay, its gentle 
ripples sparkling in the sun and the dark red hills rising 
along its sacred shores ! This then was the lake that 
Jesus loved so much and which still bears upon its bosom 
His hallowed memories. On those red scaurs His mild 
eyes often gazed when these shores, now so silent and 
desolate, were teeming with life. Here His words and 
works of mercy won eager and suffering multitudes to 
His side. Here the sick were healed, and those parables 
declared wherein the fisherman saw the image of his net ; 
the townsman, the figure of a merchant ; the farmer, the 
process of sowing seed. This whole neighborhood was 
at once the scene of Christ's most sympathetic teaching 
and His favorite retreat. Who could gaze upon it then 
and, however stolid by nature, remain insensible to the 
landscape's sacred charm ! 

We halted at noon at the head of the lake, beside a 
ruined khan with a small tree outshooting from the brok- 
en wall, and its roof thickly covered o'er with herbage. 
Near by, a number of Bedouin women were filling their 
water-skins from a deep cistern which the Mohammedans 
call " Joseph's well." On the neighboring hills the}- show 
the pit also, into which their own tradition sa} T s the no- 
ble Hebrew youth was cast. We climbed this hill when 
our repast was over, but not so much to see the pit, as 



102 



Days in the East. 



to look clown from the elevated spot upon the lake. 
Presently, as we left our halting-place and wound our 
way clown among the rocks towards the lake shore, we 
caught occasional glimpses of Mount Tabor, with its 
memories of Deborah and Barak, and of Kara Hattin. 
the Mount of Beatitudes and scene of the feeding of the 
five thousand. We were now traversing the great cara- 
van route between Egypt and Damascus, which at one 
point gave us a view of the ruins of Bethsaida. lying be- 
low us on the waters edge. This was another of the 
spots frequented by Christ TTho here healed the blind 
man. and the home of Peter. Andrew and Philip. And 
then, through groves of thick and tangled brush, formed 
of the noM'Jc. from which the crown of thorns is said to 
have been woven, we reached Kahn Minyeh and .difl Tiny, 
the " fountain of the fig." Here flows a large and tepid 
spring, above which there projects a fig-tree from the 
overhanging rock, and here some have thought it proper 
to locate the site of Capernaum. Between the merits of 
this place and of Tell Hum. nearer the head of the lake, 
we felt ourselves incompetent to decide. But if not here, 
it was just over yonder, that our Lord's "own city" lay : 
a spot calculated to touch the Christian heart most deep- 
ly. This was where the great Teacher discoursed in the 
synagogue, and spoke concerning the mysterious Pres- 
ence of the Eucharist. Here He worked some of His 
most notable miracles, rooting impure spirits, curing the 
feeble paralytic, raising the mother-in-law of Peter from 
her sick bed. and bidding the Apostle himself to catch 
the fish with the coin in its mouth. Xow not a vestige 
hardly of its ancient splendor remains. Hence, our way 
lay across the fertile plain of Gennesaret. albeit among 
thorns and over purling streams in which scowling Arabs 
gave their horses drink, and then along the pebbly beach 



The Sea of Galilee. 



103 



of the lake itself, upon whose bosom we saw an occasion- 
al water-fowl. After passing a devout Mussulman who 
kneeled at prayer upon the shore, we arrived at the 
wretched little city of Magdala where Mary Magdalene 
lived, and through which we rode without stopping. We 
were now in the parts of Dalmanutha, and just opposite 
us across the silver lake, lived of old the filthy Gerge- 
senes whose swine ran down one of yonder gently shelving 
slopes into the sea. On our right hand rose the low 
cliffs along which our bridle path ran at some distance 
above the water's edge, and on which the camels of a 
caravan crowded us closely in passing. By the side of 
this road we saw another of those sacred trees, such as 
we had seen at the tomb of Polyearp on the hill above 
Smyrna, covered with bits of colored rags hung on the 
branches by the superstitious Arabs as votive offerings 
to spirits. Then came the old gardens of Tiberias with 
their wild and profuse growth of cactus, and at last there 
broke upon our view the shattered walls and towers of 
the famous little city. It has been smitten by the earth- 
quake, as well as by war. It is doubtful whether it was 
ever visited by Christ, although a Latin convent pretends 
to mark the vicinit}' of the miraculous draught of fishes. 
But the city was of old a famous seat of learning, and is 
associated in memoiy with the Talmud and some of its 
great Rabbis and compilers. Here lived and presided 
over the Sanhedrim, the celebrated Hakodesh, known by 
the Mischna, and Jochanan, the author of the Masora. 
Its palmy da} T s, however, have long since gone by, and 
it is notorious now chiefly as the royal city of nocturnal 
pests. It is still ranked with Safed, Jerusalem and He- 
bron as among the four 4 4 holy" cities of Palestine, and 
there is, among its small population, a plentiful sprink- 
ling of Polish Jews of the lankest, leanest and most un- 



Days in the East. 



wholesome kind. The men, with their high round hats, 
and corkscrew curls depending in front of each ear, at 
once arrest the notice of the stranger. They all hold 
that when Messiah comes, He will emerge at Tiberias 
from the crystal waters of the lake, and ascend the hills 
to reign in Safed. 

While the camp was being pitched within the castle 
walls we walked about the town, although we saw little 
in its filthy lanes which deserved special attention. 
There were, of course, the usual troops of dirty, scream- 
ing children and women who wore heavy brazen orna- 
ments upon their long luxuriant braids. After a draught 
of the very mild Tiberias wine which the little German 
hostelr}' offered us, we returned to sit in our tent doors 
and gaze in peaceful content over the tranquil waters of 
the lake. Below us, the gray, flat-roofed houses lay 
beneath their straggling palms, but we thought more of 
the eight other cities which once fringed the deserted 
shores, but whose vestiges even have sunk into nothing- 
ness. Yonder, somewhere, lay Chorazin and the two 
Bethsaidas, their exact sites, like that of Capernaum, 
long since lost, or so uncertain as to baffle identification. 
Across the lake where the mountain gorges send down 
their blasts with funnel-like precision upon the bosom of 
the now placid water, once stood the strong city of 
Gamala, and there, again, Aphek whither Ben-hadad fled. 
But soon heathen history retired from view and o'er the 
scene one holy and absorbing Figure reigned. It was a 
solemn and a precious hour, a night whose sacred and 
far-reaching thoughts will go with us beyond the grave 
to recall our earthly vision of a region stamped with our 
Incarnate Master's footprints and where we read the 
Gospel written on nature's varied page. Christ, Peter, 
James, John, Saints and Apostles, had been there before 



The Sea of Galilee. 105 



us, looking on the same hills and the little sea which 
things, at least, have never changed. Over these waters 
once came w r alking, in the darkest hour of the night, He 
Who cheered His fainting disciples with the sweet assur- 
ance : "It is I ; be not afraid !" Into them did Peter 
plunge with his abaiyeJi girt about him and descend 
deeper and deeper with his sinking faith. These were 
the billows that fell so suddenly when winds and waves 
fled before the gentle imperiousness of that same voice 
exclaiming : "Peace, be still !" But I must not arrogate 
space for mere reflections. It was long after the Bedouin 
camp-fires began to flare along the opposite shore, ere 
we sought repose. 

That night the wind, shaking our tents in its restless 
grasp, came down for a wild frolic on the lake. This, 
though hardly more than six or eight miles wide, had 
assumed by morning the appearance of the open sea 
under a moderate breeze and we saw partly how sudden 
and severe a storm might possibly be, even on so small 
a sheet of water. It was a splendid sight ! The billows, 
recoiling from the old round towers on the shore, sent 
the spray frying from fifteen to twenty feet into the air. 
We had intended to spend the day in an excursion by 
water to Tell Hum, but the undertaking was now out of 
the question. The boat was large enough to hold our 
entire party besides the rowers and had been partly paid 
for, but no one could be induced that day to venture out 
upon the lake. Baths and fishing likewise were denied 
us ; but it had been settled that in any case we should 
spend the day beside the lake. Therefore, after break- 
fast we walked through the town and along the coast 
beyond, to the hot baths of which Josephus speaks and 
which Pliny also mentions. Here we laved and nearly 
burned our weary feet in the copious, scalding currents 



io6 



Days in the East. 



charged with salt and sulphur. The heat of the water is 
said to increase just before an earthquake occurs, and 
thus becomes its premonitory herald. Near by, were 
the stone tanks to which people with all manner of dis- 
eases daily come, and into which we ourselves preferred 
not to venture. In the vicinity of the springs is the 
tomb of a celebrated Jewish Rabbi, in whose small 
courtyard rise two of those curious little pillars whereon 
the Jews offer occasional burnt sacrifices of books, jewels 
and precious stuffs ; rashly destroying these costly gifts 
in honor of their deceased teachers, 

The afternoon of that day we gave up to writing, con- 
versation and quiet thought. In all there was the con- 
sciousness that it was the day of a life-time — a day that 
probably could never come again to any of our little 
group. But the remembrance and the image would 
remain — the precious inheritance of swiftly rolling years. 
When the day was done and darkness began to descend 
upon the lake we sat again, as we had done the evening 
before, just outside the tent doors, and watched the 
king-fisher, and the diver and the gull disporting in or 
over the troubled waters which, with the approach of 
evening, were now sinking into rest. We saw several 
men engaged in fishing and many women toiling beneath 
their black goat-skin sacks of water up the difficult hill — 
weary workers, such as those upon whom Christ was 
doubtless looking when, somewhere in this very region, 
He graciously said: 4 -Come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest !" But 
neither the elements of that peaceful scene, nor the feel- 
ings of its pilgrim spectators, can I properly describe. 
To attempt the one would be a forlorn hope ; to speak 
too freely of the other would be sheer irreverence. 



NAZARETH. 



As we rode up the hill out of Tiberias at six o'clock the 
following morning the sky overhead was filled with the 
softest hues of azure-blue and pink. The sun, itself yet 
unseen, threw up from behind the Eastern hills a ruddy 
glow which suffused with blushes the whole horizon. The 
wavelets made the quiet air tuneful with the music of 
their low and gentle murmurs. The beauty of that 
morning hour we never can forget ; the sweet serenity of 
the old gray town, the crested palms, the silent, steadfast 
hills, all bathed in the yellow light of dawn. As we 
climbed higher we descried at some distance to our left 
the tomb of Rabbi Akiba, Bar-Cochba's friend, and be- 
low us on the hillside, that of the great Maimonides. 
At the top of the ascent we paused and turned our horses' 
heads. It was our last glimpse of Galilee — next to our 
first view of Jerusalem from Olivet, the sweetest picture 
of our whole Palestine pilgrimage. Afar to the north 
Hermon shone in his brilliant helmet of snow ; while near 
at hand Karn Hattin, the Valley of the Doves and the 
hill of Safed filled in the scene. As we resumed our 
march, we obtained nearer views of these localities, so 
interesting to the student of Scripture. Between the 
two peaks of Karn Hattin could be easily seen the "level 
place" where the people sat during the sermon on the 
mount, but we had no opportunity of ascending thither. 
From this elevation Safed could have been plainly descried 



io8 



Days in the East. 



by the Saviour as He spoke ; if indeed, it be, as has been 
asserted, the u cit}' set on a hill, which cannot be hid." 
And all around the neighborhood, birds and lilies, the 
winds of the hill-top, and the waves of the neighboring 
lake would furnish immediate and convenient illustrations 
for the great discourse. Here the twelve Apostles were 
chosen ; and centuries afterward, at the foot of this same 
Kami Hattin, Saladin defeated the crusaders and gave its 
death-blow to the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. 

From this point, after a short and pleasant jaunt, we 
reached Kefr Kenna which is generally considered to be 
Cana of Galilee ; the birthplace of Nathaniel and the place 
where Christ, Himself at Capernaum, healed the noble- 
man's son and where He turned the water into wine. The 
village has a somewhat modern look with its new stone 
houses clustered around the mission school ; but not so 
the old Greek church into whose basement chapel we 
went to see two of the identical stone waterpots which 
figured in the miracle. At one end stood the altar, 
while quaint pictures slightly relieved the barrenness of 
the low clingy walls and heaps of olives had been emptied 
out, as if in a storehouse, upon the floor. Too incred- 
ulous to remain longer than a moment, we paid our 
backsheesh to the expectant monk and resumed our sad- 
dles. The road now again became rough and ston}\ It 
led us presently past El-Meshed, once named Gath-IIe- 
pher, the birthplace of the prophet Jonah and then through 
a region notorious in da} T s gone by for its robbers and 
fanatics who lay in wait to harrass and plunder such trav- 
elers as were venturesome enough to come that way. 
We did not stop to rest until we were at the foot of the 
hill on the other side of which lay Nazareth, the Saviour's 
childhood home. And when we came to climb it, we 
turned aside at the top, before descending into the little 



Nazareth, 



109 



city, and visited the well-known elevation to which Christ 
Himself must often have retired as a boy and whence 
many a traveler has enjoj^ed the magnificent panorama 
ofEsdraelon, Carmel and the sea. A thick mist was, 
however, rapidly rising to obscure partially our own 
view, but enough of its glories were revealed to suggest 
those which were denied our eager vision. In the teeth 
of a strong wind we retraced our steps and finally de- 
scended by a winding road into the vale where the cheer- 
ful little city nestles against the hillside. At one end of 
the town our camp was pitched upon an ancient threshing 
floor. Here we could look around us at leisure upon all 
those favored hills clad with olive, fig and cactus, with 
which our blessed Lord was so familiar and where, no 
doubt, He meditated as He roamed. 

Nazareth, a village of about four thousand, has mostly 
a native Christian population. There are several hundred 
Mohammedans — but it is said that the place contains not 
a single Jew. The introduction of Christian civilization 
has wrought an appearance of unusual thrift among the 
people and there we found even a mill, running by steam 
— a decidedly incongruous feature of the scene ! Bye and 
bye, no doubt, it will have a hotel and a carriage-road to 
the sea-coast ; but these things are at present only possi- 
bilities. All merchandise comes and goes upon the back 
of camel and mule. The streets are narrow and unclean ; 
indeed, they are never anything else in the East — and 
yet one could easily distinguish the place by its general 
appearance from airy of those settlements which are 
chiefly Mohammedan. The English Church has here a 
pretty house of prayer, together with a school and hospi- 
tal, but the prevailing beliefs are those of the Greeks and 
Latins who here, as elsewhere, earnestly contend with 
one another for possession of the "holy places." 



I IO 



Days in the East. 



It was yet early in the afternoon and so, while the 
camp was being set in order, we visited the Virgin's 
Fountain whither a reliable tradition tells us that S. Mary 
was wont to come to draw water, the Holy Child perhaps 
timidly clinging to her robe. The women of Nazareth 
were there in force at that very moment, even as they 
have been dail}' from time immemorial, bearing away 
their jars of water upon their shoulders and showing their 
pearly teeth as they laughed and chatted with one anoth- 
er. The beauty which so many travelers have ascribed 
to them is partly an illusion ; but their appearance is far 
neater and more wholesome than that of an} T of their 
Syrian sisters, save perhaps the women of Bethlehem. 
Various ornaments of glass and metal hang gracefully 
upon their arms ; while their lustrous eyes and teeth are 
enhanced in brightness by their picturesque head-dresses 
made of innumerable coins. Before departing, we drank in 
Eastern fashion, from the jar of one of these maidens who 
offered it to us, perhaps with the same modest grace with 
which Kebecca clothed herself in the presence of Abra- 
ham's servant. The water which supplies this fountain is 
said to have its source somewhere beneath the chancel floor 
of the Greek church, a spot which we afterwards visited 
and where we again partook of the water, drawing it, as 
the Greek pilgrims are wont to do, through an aperture in 
the floor, and bathing with it their eyes and foreheads. 

The great feature of modern Nazareth is, however, the 
new Latin church of the Annunciation. It professes to 
cover the former site of the Virgin's house and therefore 
the spot whereon the angel Gabriel foretold Emmanuel's 
birth. We stepped in upon the smooth floor of polished 
marble and advancing toward the choir, descended a 
broad flight of stairs which led down to a subterranean 
chapel. Here stood a handsome altar, beneath which 



Nazareth. 



1 1 1 



perpetual lights were burning. It was beautifully sculp- 
tured in white marble and bore the significant legend : 
Hie Verbum caro factum est. At the north side of 
this altar are two heavy round pillars of stone ; one, per- 
fect and upright from floor to ceiling, marking the posi- 
tion of the angel. The other is but a fragment depend- 
ing from the roof of stone and pointing out the place 
where Mary sat, humbly spinning the purple stuff of 
which tradition tells us. The lower part of this column 
has been taken off in ages past by Vandal Moslems, 
leaving the remainder, as it is said, to hang miraculously 
in the air ! This fable of the monkish guardians taken 
together with the painful precision of the pillars, visibly 
shook our faith and filled us with dismay. However, we 
passed farther on within another vaulted chapel where a 
second altar, set back to back with the first against the 
inside wall, carried the inscription : Hie erat subditus illis. 
This was the chapel of S. Joseph, a part of the actual 
dwelling at Nazareth wherein Christ became subject to 
His earthly parents. Thence we went still farther back, 
ascending a flight of steep and gloomy stairs, at an an- 
gle in which a little light was burning, and saw another 
apartment which is said to have served the Virgin as a 
kitchen, or store-room. But all these things are hardly 
worth transcribing, for no place is more confusing and 
less satisfactory to visit than the reputed place of the 
Saviour's birth. Of Nazareth and its hillsides we were 
sure ; but in the Virgin's house — the cavernous part of 
which is still here, while the rest is said to have been borne 
by the angels to Loreto — we who were disciples neither 
of Photius, nor Leo, could hardly be expected to repose 
belief. We retraced our steps into daylight and through 
the church among whose aisles and arches the vesper 
hymn was floating, and sought the site of the old syna- 



I 12 



Days in the East. 



gogue where Christ taught and aroused the envious hatred 
of His towns-people who would have thrown Him head- 
long from the neighboring cliff. Not far from this is 
another Latin chapel, built over a very large block of 
hard, white chalk, called the "Mensa Qhristi" or "table 
of Christ.'' On this, tradition tells us that the Master 
often ate with His disciples. It is carefully covered over 
with a cloth and is now an object of great veneration. 
Last of all. we visited the site of Joseph's work-shop, also 
covered by a chapel whose heavy door is kept locked and 
barred against all Jews and Moslems, the place where the 
carpenter's Son labored at His father's humble trade. 

We were glad to have finished the round and to get 
quietly back to our tents. The solemnity of a brilliant 
Eastern night, whose full moon bathed hill and valley in 
its silver light, while the eternal stars, the same which 
hung over Nazareth eighteen hundred years ago and met 
the uplifted gaze of the Divine Child, sparkled like jew- 
els in the clear sky. filled us with a calm and unspeak- 
able delight. Our own silent reflections were worth 
infinitely more to us than the hollow excitements served 
up for us so readily by monk and dragoman. The Lily 
which once grew in these secluded vales, the innocent 
Child Who here picked the wild flower and perchance 
chased the butterfly, Who laved His boyish feet in the 
mountain stream. Who thought and prayed within these 
numerous caverns, drew very near and threw Llis soft 
influences around us. In the stillness of that hour, in 
the village home itself, we could not but feel, as we had 
never felt before, the reality of the Incarnation ; the 
precious nearness of God to men through Him Who as 
child, youth and man was made u in all things like as ice 
are. yet without sin." 



ESDRAELON AND ITS CITIES. 



The lovely moon which had ridden all night through the 
heavens had disappeared, although the morning stars 
were still shining, when we rose to prepare for another 
day's journey. It was as hard to say so speedy a good- 
bye to Nazareth as it had been to leave the Sea of Gali- 
lee, but the itinerary was inexorable. The programme 
said that we must sleep that night at Jenin ; and so, in 
the dim light of dawn, our little procession rode through 
the silent streets and began to creep slowly along the 
hazardous bridle-path which leads down into the emer- 
ald plain of Esdraelon. A strong east wind swept around 
us with its chill embraces as we passed the very doubtful 
"Hill of the Overthrow," on whose brow the city could 
certainly never have been built. In a few moments more 
we were fairly on the edge of the great battle-field of the 
nations, the Armageddon, it may be, of the book of Rev- 
elation. Over Esdraelon, the horse and the chariot of 
iron, the hosts of Israel, of Canaan, of Midian, of Ama- 
lek, of Philistia, of Syria, of modern Europe have swept 
tumultuously to the shock of battle, while Carmel and Ta- 
bor and Gilboa and Little Hermon have echoed the re- 
coil. This was the great valley of Megiddo where Jo- 
siah received his death-wound in the affray with Necho, 
king of Egypt; and here Barak, descending from Mount 
Tabor, triumphed in Jehovah's strength over the enemies 



ii4 



Days in the East, 



of Israel. But we must take these associations as they 
come. TTe rode briskly over the plain, sometimes at a 
gallop, a favorable chance for which is only occasional 
on the trip through Palestine. For the most part the 
plain is uncultivated because of its insecurity. But here 
and there we came across a few fell ah in who, thoroughly 
armed, were guiding the plough with one hand and wield- 
ing the goad with the other. There is no apparent rea- 
son why a certain number of Arab farmers might not live 
here in independence and content, were there only a 
government strong enough to bring to their senses the 
Bedouin free-booters across the Jordan. This chivalry 
of plunder, which scorns the name of thief and, as becomes 
high-spirited robbers, meets its victim face to face with 
the invitation to "draw and defend," sends its hordes 
periodically over Esdraelon and perpetuates the old story 
of Israel and Midian. 

The fellahin themselves are an ignorant and supersti- 
tious people. One idea which is firmly rooted in their 
narrow minds is that every Frank is laden down with 
gold ; and another is that even then the stranger must be 
a fool to leave his distant home and come across the seas 
to toil and wander through these desolate and barren re- 
gions. If the traveler turns aside to examine some old 
ruin, the inquisitive natives suspect him of searching for 
hid treasure — the chief excitement of their own lives and 
to which they are inclined to reduce all European efforts 
in behalf of science and research. 

But now we turned our eyes from the white mosque 
which glistens on the highest ridge of Little Hermon, 
toward the spot where lay beneath its straggling palms a 
well-known village of the Gospel — the city of Nairn 
There is but little to see within its precincts and it being 
some distance aside from our more interesting route, we 



Esdraelon and its Cities, 115 

were content to comtemplate it from afar. We could 
easily command for ourselves the only permanent thing 
remaining, the same general landscape which again greet- 
ed the eyes of the revivified son of the widow, awaking 
to recognize the pity and power of the Lord of Life. Be- 
hind a hill, not far away from Nain, la} r En-dor where 
figured on that fatal night so long ago the singular trio of 
prophet, king and witch. The ridge of Carmel now rose 
grandly in front of us, covered with rich vegetation and 
manifesting all the beauty for which it is extolled in Holy 
Writ. On its fertile slopes Pythagoras once sought ref- 
uge ; and yonder, somewhere, was the plateau on which 
Elijah raised against the priests of Baal, the broken al- 
tar of the Lord. The trial by fire must have been a 
strange scene to the excited multitudes who thronged the 
hillside and, in pursuit of Baal's priests, rushed down 
upon the plain where still flows the Kishon. Now all is 
wild and solemn and deserted. The trees and wild flow- 
ers flourish perennially for miles along the famous ridge, 
concealing and adorning the haunts where lurk unmolest- 
ed the jackal, fox and panther. In the opposite direction 
now reappeared, much nearer to us than before, the green, 
truncated cone which we were quick to recognize as the 
rounded hill of Tabor. It was the chief thing of real 
beaut} 7 on the landscape, if we except "the excellency 
of Carmel/' a hill well-fitted by its appearance, though 
disqualified by its location, for the great scene of the 
Transfiguration. In front of us lay Jezreel and the mount- 
ains of Gilboa, overlooking the plain adown which swept 
in olden time from Jordan to the sea the storms of hail 
and sleet and hurricane, while the stars in their courses, 
fighting from above, became the allies of the swollen 
waters of the Kishon. 

Another Scripture city now lay before us and in a few 



n6 



Days in the East, 



minutes we were riding through modern Shunem, think- 
ing of Elisha and the Shunamite's son who was here re- 
suscitated by the prophet. The whole picture came back 
to mind in vivid lines for here was Shunem and there the 
top of Carmel from which the anxious mother, urging her 
ass across the plain, fetched the sympathetic friend of 
her family. Many travelers have spoken of the beauty 
of Shunem, but the impression must have been received 
within the narrow limits of some shady lunching-spot in 
the vicinity. We ourselves rode directly through the 
town without pausing, and a viler, filthier collection of 
hovels I never saw, not even at Bethany, which, like Shu- 
nem, has an unmixed population of Mohammedans. 
The mangy curs, yelping at us from the house-tops, 
seemed themselves to be of a more ill-favored breed here 
than elsewhere. So far as Shunem is concerned, sur- 
rounded with its palms and hedges of prickly pear, it is 
distance alone which lends enchantment to the view. 

Another smart ride of an hour or so brought us to the 
foot of the hill of Jezreel up which we slowly wound. 
At the top we found a typical Arab village in whose 
market-place some motley groups of fellahin were loung- 
ing and smoking. Near it our attention was called to 
some huge foundation stones, on which several modern 
buildings had been reared, as the remnants of that palace 
from whose window Jezebel was hurled to the dogs and 
met her tragic fate. But we turned away to look out 
across the plain and draw upon our own resources. Some- 
where on the slope below us, la}' Xaboth's vineyard ; and 
a little way from the foot of the hill, the fountain in 
which Ahab's chariot was washed, the clogs licking up 
the mingled water and the monarch's blood. Farther 
out stretched the historic plain which we had just cross- 
ed, over which Jehu, driving furiously, slew Jehoram 



Esdraelon and its Cities, 



117 



and whereon king Ahaziah met his death. To the right 
lay the spurs of Gilboa where Israel fell before Philistia 
and the despairing Saul sheathed his sword in his own 
bosom. And below Gilboa bubbled the beautiful fount- 
ain of Gideon, forming a large, lucid pool — the same at 
which the famous three hundred drank in such manner 
as to prove their right to go to war. 

Thither we now made our way and when our repast 
was over, we stretched ourselves in the shadow of the 
rocks and talked of the landscape so rich in memories. 
Among other topics, came up the absorbing subject of 
the "Jordan canal," the proposed rival of the complicated 
affair in Egypt controlled by the French and supported 
chiefly by English commerce. The plan is to connect 
the Mediterranean with the Jordan by a broad canal cut 
through the plain of Esdraelon, perhaps a mile or two in 
front of where we were then resting, and another uniting 
the Dead Sea with the gulf of Akaba, or north-eastern 
arm of the Red Sea. If this were done, the physical 
surface of Palestine would be completely metamorphosed 
in a manner that would seem almost sacrilegious. The 
future traveler, reclining as we were doing, might then 
lift up his e} r es and see a fleet of merchantmen slowly 
making its way through the plain of Esdraelon. And 
as he proceeded southward, he would find the entire val- 
ley of the Dead Sea turned into a huge inland lake run- 
ning northward to the uppermost shores of the sea of 
Galilee and practically wiping out forever the lake of 
Gennesaret and the river Jordan. Na}^, he might even 
take ship at London, or Naples and never leave it until 
he disembarked within fifteen miles of Jerusalem. Will 
the canal ever be built? Much as it might materially 
benefit Palestine and the world, there are some to whom 
the prospect of its execution is not without alloj\ 



1 1 8 Days in the East. 

We mounted again and rode slowly over the slopes of 
Gilboa until we found ourselves traversing that portion 
of the plain which lay on the other side. The sun was 
broiling hot, although it was already the ninth day of 
November. For the remainder of the afternoon nothing 
occurred to break the monotony of our ride, save now 
and then the sight of a herd of grazing camels, in one 
drove of which we counted over fifty animals. Among 
other minor cities of the plain we passed within view of 
the ancient Taanach and at last reached Jenin, the En- 
gannim of Scripture, situated on the edge of Esdraelon 
at the entrance among the hills. Here a clear and love- 
ly watercourse flows musically beneath the palms. The 
situation of the town is picturesque and beautiful — the 
inhabitants, thieving and fanatical. The place has, how- 
ever, but few Biblical associations and none at all with 
the life of Christ, unless we choose to credit the tradition 
which tells us that here the ten lepers were healed. 



FROM JENIN TO NABLOUS. 



In the memory of marry other travelers the encamp- 
ment at Jenin is associated with recollections of robbery 
and thieves. A worse reputation attaches to hardly any 
other place in Syria. We procured our guard from the 
village, as usual, and were glad in the morning to find 
that the guard itself had not laid, as often happens, its 
own covetous fingers upon our luggage. But, instead of 
thieves, our own party will always have occasion to asso- 
ciate jackals with Jenin. Throughout the night their 
dismal wails floated on the midnight wind and sent their 
long-drawn echoes through the air. The jackal is a 
cowardly beast, ghoulish, but harmless to the living. 
And yet nothing is better calculated to curdle the blood 
at midnight than the sound of its piercing and unearthly 
scream ; as if it were the last shriek of a murdered man, 
or the wail of a lost spirit doomed to suffer endlessly the 
extremities of a mediaeval hell. 

Not far from the camp we passed, in the gray dawn of 
the morning, a group of four men and two women who, 
even at that early hour, were assembled for prayer around 
the grave of some deceased relative. Thence the way 
led us past some shepherds' caves among the rocks in the 
vicinity of which we saw occasional hallowed bushes hung 
with the testimonial shreds of clothing of which I have 
already spoken. Then came a structure containing an 



120 



Days in the East. 



oil press — decked, Mohammedan fashion, in green and 
white. Then another village notorious for its thieves ; 
and finally, as we wound around the mountain path, Ib- 
rahim pointed out to us the locality of Dothan associated 
with the earlier history of the magnanimous Joseph and 
where Elisha astonished the young man with the vision 
of the fiery hosts. A short ride now brought us to the 
" drowning meadow," a small, but fertile plain which is 
under water at a certain season of the year. Over it we 
rode past the strong fortress city of Sanur — prominent in 
internecine struggles of the Arabs. The birds sang sweet- 
ly around us — and the fellahin were both sowing and 
planting in the fields. The women, as usual, were also 
busy, carrying great heavy heaps of brush upon their 
heads, or gathering the first fruits of the olive harvest. 
But these georgic scenes were of short duration. The 
meadow soon lay behind us and after riding a while 
among the hills we climbed the sides of a large deep vale 
and, without turning in our saddles, had a magnificent 
view of the Mediterranean, twenty miles away. This in 
turn passed from view as we proceeded and the next not- 
able scene in this interesting and ever-shifting pano- 
rama, was the celebrated hill of Sebaste or Samaria. Half 
hidden among the gardens with which its top is richly 
covered, lies the modern village among the ruins of the 
ancient city. It was of old a site replete with strength 
and beauty and fertility — a position which still highly com- 
mends the choice of Omri in selecting a place for his new 
palace. But the city soon became idolatry's stronghold 
and rebellion's nest. The wicked Ahab here reared his 
temple to Baal and drew away from their allegiance the 
people of Jehovah. Then came the punishment — the 
fierce and awful siege, wherein men and women starved 
on ass's head and doves' dung — while the four leprous 



From Jenin to Nablous. 121 



men resolved to trust themselves to the mercy of the 
besiegers rather than sit and die in the gate. Here it 
was that Elisha ordered Joash to shoot the arrows of de- 
liverance from the window eastward, and here the bones 
of the dead prophet restored to life the man who had 
been cast into his sepulchre. Hither came Philip preach- 
ing Christ ; followed by the Apostles Peter and John lay- 
ing upon the new converts the hands of Confirmation. 
Here, too, the crime of simony was born in the profane 
aspirations of Simon Magus who would have purchased 
spiritual gifts with gold. 

We rode up the hill and dismounting, threw our tired 
forms upon the ground under the olives. When we had 
sufficiently satisfied our own hunger and the curiosity of 
a deputation of village youths who squatted around us 
on the ground and eyed us diligently, we explored the 
neighborhood on foot. Rows of broken pillars, the rem- 
nants of Herod's architectural splendor, still stand, 
minus their capitals, around the hill, to the number of 
nearly one hundred. Many others lie recumbent amid 
the brush and bushes. The whole picture is one in 
which the irrepressible beauty of nature struggles vainly 
to conceal the desolation of art. The hand of God has 
smitten the beautiful hill and in the confused heaps and 
broken stones which strew the green terraces you may 
read what His finger has there so plainly written — the 
sixth verse of the first chapter of Micah. 

In the ruined church of S. John, the Baptist, which 
by the way is said to be the parent of all other churches 
of the same name in Christendom, we were shown the 
traditional tombs of the great forerunner as well as 
those of Elisha and Obadiah. Oredat Judaeus Apella! 
For our own part, we speedily dispensed with the serv- 
ices of our Samaritan guides and having scattered a 



122 



Days in the East, 



few piastres among the rabble, were soon descending the 
hill on the side toward the south. For several hours we 
rode through a succession of brown hills and desolate 
vales till, after passing the straggling arches of a ruined 
aqueduct, we caught sight of two of the great mountains 
of sacred history — Ebal and Gerizim. As we came near- 
er we saw that the rocky sides of Ebal were scarred with 
unsightl}' quarries, suggesting the unloveliness of its em- 
ployment as the "hill of curses;" while on the extreme 
top of Gerizim — the u hill of blessing," appeared a sin- 
gle spreading tree whose green branches on that barren 
height seemed to savour of a benediction. All around 
us in the valley stood groves of aged olives, their masses 
of silvery grey supported on hollow, half open trunks — 
knotted, gnarled and twisted — and filled, in several cases 
with huge flat stones piled on one another — from the 
root to the forks. Many of these trees are at least a 
thousand years old and are still fruitful. For the first 
ten or fifteen }'ears, the young olive is good for little, 
its 3'ield being insignificant. But after that period, an 
olive grove becomes a good and permanent investment, 
pa}ing far better to the acre than the average wheat-field, 
and involving only the labor of gathering the fruit. The 
harvest was now in progress, the men beating the branch- 
es and starting the dove from her favorite haunt — while 
the women and girls collected the berries in baskets and 
bore them away on their heads and shoulders. The fruit 
of Palestine is smaller than that which appears upon our 
own tables and while some of the berries are of the usual 
green — other trees produce olives whose color is a deep 
black. As we left the groves and drew nearer the town, 
the sight of pleasant verdure and the sound of rushing 
waters greeted eye and ear. An Arab dignitary splen- 
didly dressed and attended by his servant rode past us 



From Jenin to Nablous. 123 



carrying a falcon on bis wrist. These fierce little birds 
are much used in hunting the red-legged partridge which 
frequents the hills of S}Tia. In a moment or two more 
we had reached our encampment which had been pitched 
on the edge of Nablous, within the shadow alike of Ebal 
and Gerizim. We had hardly performed our ablutions 
ere we were waited upon by our good-hearted friend, 
El-Karey, who for many years has served a mission in 
Shechem and who now came forward to renew our pre- 
vious acquaintance and offer his services as our cicerone 
in the little city. As it was Saturda} 7 afternoon and our 
camp was to break up as usual at dawn on Monday morn- 
ing, we were glad to improve the remaining hours of day- 
light in the town under the kind guidance of Mr. El-Karey. 
The incidents of our walk as well as the experiences of 
the following day will, however, be better reserved for 
account in the ensuing chapter. 



BETWEEN EBAL AND GERIZIM. 



Nablous, or the ancient Shechem, lies in a situation of 
great natural beauty. Mid gardens and orchards and a 
score of murmuring rills, it stretches along the deep vale 
between Ebal and Gerizim, whose solitudes are dis- 
turbed by the noise of a trade and industry with which 
it is a surprise to meet in Palestine. The neighborhood 
is fruitful in sacred associations. It was hither Abram 
came, while yet the nomadic Canaanites were wander- 
ing to and fro through the land, seeking food and 
pasturage at their will. Near by is the field which Ja- 
cob bought from the hand of Hamor ; and one of the ear- 
liest episodes in the history of Shechem was the wilful 
slaughter of its people through the "fierce anger" and 
4 4 cruel wrath" of Simeon and Levi. On Gerizim Joshua 
stood to read the blessings of the Law while the corre- 
sponding curses were launched forth from the sides of 
Ebal ; and soon after this ceremony, the town was con- 
stituted one of the six cities of refuge. From the top 
of Gerizim Jotham delivered his famous parable of 
the trees ; and in subsequent years, by the insolence of 
Jeroboam, the great schism was here entailed upon the 
ten tribes of Israel who made Jeroboam King. But the 
most enduring association of the city is that which con- 
nects it with the worship of the Samaritans, whose temple 
once crowned the summit of Gerizim and the smoke of 



Between Ebal and Gerizim. 125 

whose paschal sacrifice still, after the lapse of thirty cen- 
turies, .yearly ascends the skies. 

One of the first visits which we made in the company 
of Mr. El-Karey, who had so kindly placed his services 
at our disposal, was to the sjmagogue of the Samaritans, 
the "oldest family" on the face of the earth and now re- 
duced to about one hundred and fifty souls. There is 
something deeply pathetic in the tenaciousness with 
which they hold to their venerable faith, pitching every 
year their Easter tents upon the mountain and slaj'ing 
the lamb in exact accordance with the original instruc- 
tions in the Book of Exodus. When, through dark pas- 
sages and devious windings, we at last reached the hum- 
ble synagogue, we found the sabbath evening service in 
progress and were permitted only to stand before the 
open door. After spending a few minutes in listening 
to the singing men who, robed in white, were chanting 
the Psalter in dull, lifeless tones, we called for a sight of 
the famous Pentateuch. Forthwith the High Priest, a 
very ordinary looking man with features not cast, how- 
ever, in the modern Hebrew mould, graciously came for- 
ward and gave his hand most cordially to each of us in 
turn. We looked at him with far more reverence for his 
hereditary office than for his own sacerdotal appearance, 
for here was a true lineal descendant of the tribe of Levi, 
the priest and autocrat of a community which, feeble as 
it now is, can easily double the age of the oldest mon- 
archy in Europe and have a few score years to spare. 
Several attendants now produced what purported to be 
the original Samaritan Pentateuch. I frankly own that 
we, like all other tourists through the Holy Land, save 
those of royal blood, were probably deceived and shown 
only a very ancient substitute. The description of it, 
given occasionally as that of the original, is well-known 




126 



Days in the East. 



and notwithstanding our misgivings, we looked with the 
deepest interest at the old parchment roll thrust into its 
inlaid metal tube and the whole wrapped about with cloths 
of green and gold. The member of our party whose two 
previous visits to Shechem gave him the apparent right 
to drop the fly into the ointment of our satisfaction, in- 
formed us that in order to exhibit the older roll, the 
High Priest must undergo a process of purification lasting 
about a week. That settled the case of course for us, so 
after bidding the dignitary a substantial farewell, we 
turned our backs upon the synagogue, which, like the 
fast dying little sept itself, is the ridiculous vestige of a 
great and reverend faith. 

Among the other points of interest which we visited 
under the conduct of our missionary friend was the tra- 
ditional wailing-place of Jacob' over Joseph, where the 
blood-stained coat of man}' colors was brought by his 
unworthy sons to the afflicted father. Another was the 
ancient door-way, once of pure white marble, formerly 
admitting to the splendid temple of the Knights of S. 
John. But the marble carvings have long been defaced 
by a covering of paint, and the church converted into the 
principal mosque of Nablous. Thence pursuing our 
rambles, we walked through the chief bazar, most of 
whose shops were already closed for the day, and arrived 
beneath the dome which marks the centre of the little 
city and from whose arch criminals are publicly hanged. 
As we dodged under and through the long, dark, sewer- 
like archways where our only safety, both for head and 
feet, lay in keeping as nearly as possible in the middle, 
we received some new ideas concerning Oriental streets. 
Indeed, these byways of Nablous have no parallel any- 
where else in Palestine, save in Hebron where, in fact, 
their intricate windings and gloomy quaintness are ex- 



Between Ebal and Gerizim. 127 



ceeded. In one of these narrow streets we crowded up 
against the wall to let a funeral procession pass — a most 
undignified and cheerless troop. The conin of plain 
boards, with the dead boy's fez supported on a short pole 
at the head, was borne aloft on the shoulders of several 
men who hurried rapidly along, as if the interment might 
be overtaken by the approaching darkness. Behind them 
came a small but motley train of curious children, run- 
ning hither and thither among the hired mourners who in 
dolorous, whining tones — to which a European could 
hardly listen with a straight face — chanted over and over 
again in the Arabic tongue : "There is but one God and 
Mohammed is the prophet of God !" Simply this and 
nothing more, so long as we could hear them. 

The next day was Sunday, and we had hardly gotten 
out of our tents before our ears were greeted with loud 
and dismal wailings in the immediate vicinity of our camp. 
They came chiefly from women's voices and, on walking 
to the edge of the plateau occupied by our encampment, 
the cause of their grief and imprecations was soon made 
apparent. Along the road below, a company of conscripts 
under the convoy of Turkish soldiers was just setting out 
on its march to Jaffa. Near by were the frantic mothers, 
wives and sisters of the unfortunate men, crying like 
children, and with the best of reasons. For many of 
them, the parting of a death-bed would have been prefer- 
able. The Turkish government, whose name the thought- 
ful traveler in the East finds it difficult to pronounce with- 
out a curse, reaches the acme of refined cruelty in the 
treatment of its common soldiers. These men are often 
practically kidnapped and shipped, sometimes without a 
day's warning, to Constantinople whence they are distrib- 
uted over the vast Turkish empire, no one knows where. 
The miserable pittance of pay received is barely sufficient 



128 



Days in the East. 



for their own wants and their wives and children who 
have been left behind must henceforth take care of them- 
selves, or starve. Moreover the friends at home in many 
cases never hear from their wretched fathers and hus- 
bands during an absence of from ten to twent}' years. 
Therefore it is easy to believe, what is really no uncom- 
mon occurrence, that Mohammedan mothers put out an 
eye, or otherwise maim their male children in order to 
save them from the possible fate of the conscript. Soon 
after our arrival at Jerusalem the case of Mustapha, the 
popular head -waiter of the Mediterranean Hotel, excited 
the indignation of all Christians in the Holy City. This 
man, though of Moslem extraction, had been a Christian 
fifteen years and so considered exempt from the Turkish 
service. Though hated b}' Mohammedans, he ,was a 
general favorite with Europeans, the master of a half- 
dozen languages and the father of an interesting family 
of young children. By some piece of Moslem deviltry, 
he was caught on the street one day, hurried through the 
form of drawing lots for service, got a black card of 
course, and though a large, heavy man, was at once 
started off without a chance of farewell to wife and chil- 
dren, to walk under the hot sun to Jaffa, a distance of 
thirty-eight miles. His friends afterwards sent gold af- 
ter him upon the road, in order to bribe the soldiers to 
lend him a horse. But no one ever expected to see him 
again, or even that he would reach Constantinople alive. 
His sad fate seems indeed to have been the pre-arrang- 
ed penalty, executed after many years, for turning his 
back on the prophet. As Mustapha was a Latin Chris- 
tian, there were threats of French interference in the 
matter, but I have heard of no results. 

Our Sunday at Nablous was spent, partly at Mr. El- 
Karey's house in the city, partly in our own camp. At 



Between Ebal and Gerizim. 



129 



eleven, we assembled ourselves at the former place where 
we had a parlor service in English, the Rev. Dr. M. 
making us an address. When it was over, Mrs. El- 
Karey and her sister invited us to the housetop where we 
spent a delightful half hour talking among the shrubs 
and young cedars of Lebanon which grew in various re- 
ceptacles around us. Late in the afternoon, I strolled 
with a friend through the dingy streets and watched the 
muezzin overhead, as he walked round and round the 
minaret on the old church of the Knights of S. John, 
chanting in clear and penetrating voice the call to prayer. 
And in the evening, Mr. El-Karey came with his family 
to join us at dinner, the only occasion during our trip on 
which our table was graced with the presence of ladies. 
Both cook and steward did themselves credit and it was 
with a universal vote of thanks that we arose and carried 
our camp chairs out into the balmy air of the evening. 
There we sat, listening to the missionary's tales of his 
adventures among the Bedouins across the Jordan, until 
the barren summits of Ebal and Gerizim stood sharply 
outlined against the starlit sky and the brilliant moon- 
light flooded all the vale below. 




PATRIARCHAL MEMORIES. 



Before leaving Nablous we recollected that it was the 
birthplace of Justin Martyr and were thus enabled, as 
we rode out of the picturesque little city on Monday 
morning, to give it our parting glance for the sake of the 
Christian philosopher. Just outside the gates we were 
beset with entreaties by a group of lepers whose condi- 
tion was frightful and repulsive in the extreme. Par- 
tially satisfying their importunities, we pursued our way 
southward past the native barracks, on the drill-ground 
of which several soldiers were manceuvering their well- 
trained steeds. Their skill and dexterity proclaimed 
anew what all Europe knows, that the Turkish arnry 
might become a formidable power if only it were hu- 
manely treated and properly officered. In less than half 
an hour we turned aside from the main path and in two 
or three minutes arrived at the rude and roofless little 
enclosure of stone and plaster which has the honor of 
guarding the tomb of Joseph — a man whose noble char- 
acter helps to suffuse, with its own peculiar glow, the 
earlier pages of the Bible. The humble little mauso- 
leum would seem to have been a complete ruin in former 
days, for on the inside wall is a tablet, informing the 
pilgrim that the structure owes its restoration to the per- 
sonal interest of Mr. Rogers, "sometime Her British 
Majesty's consul at Damascus." In one comer runs a 



Patriarchal Memories. 1 3 1 

climbing vine, while two roughly shaped pedestals stand, 
one at the head, the other at the foot of the tomb. The 
uses of these last are, no doubt, the same as those of the 
upright altars, of which I have already spoken, at the 
Rabbi's tomb near Tiberias. We would have liked to 
stay here for a quiet hour or more ; but were we not sight- 
seeing according to a programme which the exigencies of 
accident or bad weather alone could rescue from its like- 
ness to the laws of the Medes and Persians? So, as we 
had no time to indulge in reflection there, I shall make 
no attempt to sentimentalize here. 

It is but a short distance hence to Jacob's well, and to 
this we now made our way. Its heavy mouth-stone is 
some feet below the surrounding surface and is almost 
hidden by the confused heaps of stones which once lay in 
the walls of the ruined church that stood above it. The 
well, although diy and partially filled up, is yet very deep 
as we easily discovered by the distant thud of several peb- 
bles dropped into the shaft. Here, then, was the place 
where the Lord of Life sat and talked with the woman of 
Samaria, and there was Gerizim, the mount in which "our 
fathers worshiped" and upon which the looks of both 
were bent as the familiar colloquy proceeded. All around 
were the corn fields, lying now as of old in the same patch 
of ground which was given to Joseph and on which Abra- 
ham may have built his first altar. The merciless and 
too swiftly flying hours, however, soon drew us away and 
we were quickly speeding across the plain of Mukhna, 
full of mole hills, the sure signs of fertility, and the same 
over which, so many generations ago, Joseph went on his 
way to seek his brethren. We overtook an Arab Chris- 
tian, reading his little blue Testament in his native tongue 
as he walked along, and then a company of jugglers 
whose gigantic monkey performed for us during a five 




132 



Days in the East. 



minutes'' halt. As we jogged along again we passed the 
old town and well of Lebonah and bye and bye. after 
missing the perplexing path and with difficulty regaining 
it. we found ourselves rapidly approaching the ruined 
heaps of Shiloh. Nothing but stones lie around, inter- 
spersed among fragments of standing walls. In the shade 
of one of these ruined structures we had our noon refresh- 
ment, while we talked over the past greatness of the des- 
olate spot. Here it was that the original distribution of 
the promised land was made to Israel. Here the taber- 
nacle was set up. the daughters of Shiloh yearly dancing 
in its honor, until, on a memorable day. they were kid- 
napped by the decimated and desperate sons of Benjamin. 
Here lived the family of Eli. the careless priest and fa- 
ther, who fell backward in his death throes when he heard 
that Israel had lost the Ark of God. and Shiloh its pecu- 
liar sanctity. In Shiloh the youthful Samuel served Je- 
hovah and heard His voice in the silent night watches, 
while every year his pious mother, Hannah, brought him 
•the little coat. And hither also came the disguised queen 
.of the faithless Jeroboam to inquire of Abijah, the proph- 
.et concerning the monarch's sick child, only to discover 
that the Lord had forewarned the sightless seer of her 
deceit and. to hear the divine judgment denounced against 
the whole house of Jeroboam. 

As we rode.pff. a solitary owl hooted dolefully from 
: ^mong the ruins, a mournful reminder of the fallen glo 
.ries of God's chosen people. It seemed so strange and 
unreal to be traveling among these identical spots, of 
which. we had read so much from childhood in the word 
..of God, and to find them so degraded and desolate. 
^Hardly a voice is now heard in the neighborhood of 
Shiloh. A modern Arab village, SlngeL lies not far away, 
but after this was passed, we again entered a narrow, 



Patriarchal Memories. 



133 



lonely vale shut in by cliffs whose former dark associa- 
tions had given to its crystal spring the ominous sobri- 
quet of the Robber's Fountain. At this we stopped to 
water our horses, and then along the rough and stony 
bed of a dry brook we clambered up out of the ravine 
and soon caught a distant glimpse of Mizpeh, or Nebi- 
Samuil, with the false tomb of the prophet Samuel on 
its top. From here to Bethel we saw little of interest 
save a farmer piling on his dba which he had spread 
within the ploughed field and whereon he knelt with his 
face toward Mecca ; and an Arab baby swathed in rags 
and lying in a cradle swung by ropes from the lower 
branches of an olive. When we reached the camping 
ground at Bethel we found that the luggage train had not 
arrived. So, tired as we were, we waited as patiently 
as possible while the moon rose slowl}' and threw its light 
over the old dry pool at which, no doubt, Abraham's 
cattle once quenched their thirst and Sarah's maidens, 
like those which came down that evening from Beitin to 
the neighboring fountain, filled their pitchers. 



THE DESCENT FROM BETHEL. 



The tinkling of the familiar bells was heard soon after 
dark, and in another moment the belated train halted on 
the grassy bottom of the old reservoir. The disburdened 
mules at once began their antics of satisfaction, rolling 
and kicking over the turf, while the tents were speedily 
erected and dinner prepared. During these preliminaries 
we had further time to look around us and recall the 
patriarchal associations of the spot. It was here at 
Bethel, the city of old called Luz, and governed by Can- 
aanitish Kings, that Abram, the faithful old sheiM, 
reared his altar to Jehovah. Here it was that Jacob, 
going toward Haran, tarried all night, and while his head 
rested upon some of these numerous stones for his pillow, 
saw the ladder with the angels of God ascending and 
descending between earth and heaven. Here the same 
Jacob afterwards buried under an oak, Deborah. Re- 
bekah's nurse, and set up the pillar in the place where 
God had talked with him. Hither, in after times, was 
brought the Ark of the Covenant and hither Samuel came 
in his circuit to judge Israel. Out of Bethel went forth 
the sons of the prophet and, like those at Jericho, put to 
Elisha the question concerning Elijah: '-Knowest thou 
that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head 
to-day?" and were curtly answered : "Yea, I know it ; 
hold ye your peace !" And in the same neighborhood 



The Descent from Bethel. 1 3 5 



occurred the well-known tragedy of the two she-bears 
and forty-two children, a rather summary vengeance 
taken by the stern prophet upon the youthful mockers. 
Here Jeroboam reared his golden calf and saw the hand of 
God rend his idolatrous altar and pour out the ashes 
thereof; and when years afterward the good Josiah came 
and burned dead men's bones upon the altar, the only 
sepulchre which remained unmolested was that of the 
man of God who had boldly come forth from Judah to 
proclaim the very things the king had done against the 
high places of Jeroboam. But what a flood of associa- 
tions pours into the mind as we linger among these holy 
places ! Even our allusions to them become inevitably a 
mere series of references to Scripture. 

We went to bed very tired that evening and when the 
sun rose brightly the next morning, I think I never saw 
the signs of a heavier dew than had fallen during the 
night. The double tent-roofs were completely soaked as 
if they had weathered a heavy shower, and the moisture 
was dripping from the inside edges of the canvas. It 
mattered little to us, however, so long as there was no 
rain and with light hearts we sprung into our saddles for 
the journey down to the valley of the Jordan. We were 
already within a day's journey of the Holy City. Bat 
instead of proceeding straight southward, it had been de- 
cided that we should make a present detour b}' way of 
the Jordan and the Dead Sea and thence ascend by the 
route of the Good Samaritan to Jerusalem. As we were 
now going into a region where the Turkish government 
is held in contempt by the lawless Bedouins, it became 
necessary to have an armed escort which had been sum- 
moned from Jerusalem by telegraph, and which attended 
us from here until our arrival three days later in the 
Holy City. We had not proceeded far upon our road 



Days in the East. 



before we caught, from one of the neighboring hills, our 
first grand view of the Dead Sea, its heavy bosom spark- 
ling beneath the sun like a huge flat plate of highly pol- 
ished metal. Our point of view was between Bethel and 
Ai, in the same neighborhood, beyond all dispute, where 
stood the selfish Lot when he chose his new home with a 
double disregard of the preferences of his venerable rela- 
tive and of the spiritual condition of his household in its 
new surroundings. A little way to the north now ap- 
peared Eimmon whither Benjamin retired after the de- 
feat at G-ibeah, while to the south, behind the neighbor- 
ing hills which just hid it from our view, lay Michmash, 
the scene of Jonathan's famous exploit. It was not long 
before we came to the heaps of stone, much like those of 
Shiloh, which are now all that is left of Ai. In its vicin- 
ity we saw no houses but only an occasional dark-skinned 
fellah with no raiment save a white cloth about his loins, 
listlessly driving the plough. Occasionally also we 
would pass a group of tents on the barren slope remind- 
ing us of other structures like them which once dotted 
this very landscape and wherein dwelt patriarchs and 
princes like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. But the land 
was very different then, with its forests of oak and lurk- 
ing places for lions and bears. Now little was left save 
the naked, flint}' rock over whose smooth and slippery 
surface our horses' feet made the sparks fly incessantly. 
Presently, we met a family party going on a journey in 
the strict fashion of the country, whose customs, so far 
as postures are concerned, always belie the familiar pic- 
ture of the " Flight into Egypt." In the artistic creation 
Mary rides and Joseph walks. In real Oriental life, as 
in the case before us, this state of things exhibits a com- 
plete reversal. VTe looked sympathetically at the wom- 
an toiling along on foot and bearing a large bundle on 



The Descent from Bethel. 



137 



her back and then indignantly at her laz} r lord who be- 
strode the donkey. But when, through Ibrahim, we de- 
manded why he did not let his wife ride he smiled sarcas- 
tically at the insane idea. No more incidents beguiled 
the weary way until at noon w r e lay down for an hour's rest 
in a wady whose sides glared hotly in the vertical rays of 
the mid-day sun. But the meagre shade of the thorn 
bushes soon rendered us not unwilling to proceed. And 
finally about the middle of the afternoon we began the 
terrific descent to the camping-ground at Ain-es- Sultan, 
or Elisha's fountain. A more frightful road we had nev- 
er traversed. We led our horses after us down a suc- 
cession of steep rocky stairs while the poor pack- mules 
with their legs visibly bending and twisting beneath their 
heavy burdens, needed frequent urging to perform the 
toilsome descent. It was a joyful hour for both man and 
beast when the weaiy train halted at last on the little 
plateau above the fountain with the Mount of Temptation 
behind it and in front a wide panorama unsurpassed in 
interest, its leading features, the lovely plain of Jericho, 
the Jordan Valley, the hills of Moab and the Dead Sea. 




THE JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA. 



The superb view commanded by our pleasant camp 
was the same on which the Israelites themselves once 
looked down from the opposite hills of Moab. To be 
sure, Jericho, the great city, and other features of the 
scene had passed away, but the more substantial portions 
of the landscape remained unchanged. Below us lay 
the spring whose story is told in the second chapter of 
the second book of Kings ; and a few steps to one side, 
the probable site of the house of Rahab. Here, there- 
fore, was the site of ancient Jericho whose plain stretch- 
ed away before us to the Jordan, furrowed here and there 
with the plow, and whence rose many a curling wreath 
of smoke, where the fettahin were burning their heaps of 
brush. Beyond this broad expanse of verdure, of olives 
and of balsam groves, rose, on the near horizon, the 
purple range of which one peak — no man knows which — 
was certainly Pisgah, the lofty vantage-ground from which 
the undimmed vision of Moses swept, through the clear 
atmosphere, over the whole land of Canaan. Below 
what may have been Pisgah, on the further side of the 
the Salt Sea, stood Macherus in whose castle prison the 
Baptist lost his head, and close to this were the waters 
of Calirrhoe wherein Herod bathed. While, behind us, 
rose the sacred hill of the Quarantine, or forty days' fast, 
its precipitous sides covered over with the caves of nu- 



The Jordan and the Dead Sea. 139 



merous hermits who in ages past have resorted hither to 
imitate, as closely as possible, the watching, fastiiig, and 
spiritual discipline of their great Exemplar. As evening 
drew on, I took my field-glass and withdrew to the top 
of a neighboring knoll where I sat and studied the land- 
scape long and thoughtfully. A deep blue tint was upon 
the hills and sea, and as darkness advanced, there was 
an occasional glare of vivid lightning which momentarily 
threw the Eastern hills into strong relief. The screams 
of the jackal now began to be heard over the plain and 
the wind blew colder, but around our cheerful camp-fire 
we sat cosily and witnessed a native entertainment im- 
provised for our amusement. It being our last night but 
one under canvas, the camp servants and muleteers rig- 
ged up one of their number as a dancing bear, in bells 
and skins, and his antics were accompanied with all the 
monotonous cadences of a genuine Arab chorus. 

After a night which, comparatively dry and warm as 
it was, contrasted favorably with our preceding evening 
at Bethel, the saddles were again brought forth and we 
prepared to visit the Jordan and the Dead Sea. We 
rode over the site of ancient Jericho among the thickets 
of sidr trees, or "spina Christi" thinking, as we journey- 
ed, of Joshua, the conqueror, and Hiel, the daring 
Bethelite who, in spite of the curse fulfilled upon him, 
rebuilt the city. Even now the plain of Jericho is abund- 
antly fertile and its fertility might be immeasurably in- 
creased by a wise system of irrigation which the occa- 
sional springs like Ai7i-es~ Sultan render quite practicable. 
We noticed as we proceeded a profuse mixture of palms, 
balsams, sycamores, fields of corn and hemp and, nearer 
the mud-brick hovels of modern Jericho, the bushes 
whereon grow the yellow apples of Sodom. Among the 
squalid huts stands a large square tower of stone which 



140 Days in the East, 



marks the supposed site of the house of Zacchaeus. 
Beyond this we descended into the dry bed of the wady 
Cherith — not far from where Beth-Hoglah once lay ; and 
then, after a rather tedious ride among the hills of sand 
and salt, with no other living things in sight except the 
wild geese which flew screaming high over our heads, we 
at last reached the shore of the Bahr Lut, or the Dead 
Sea, at a point several miles distant from the mouth of 
the river Jordan. 

This singular body of water, on whose shores once lay 
the doomed cities of the plain, lies like a cauldron deep 
among the hills, its waters constantly fljing from it by a 
strong and rapid evaporation. The pungent odor of sul- 
phur and bitumen still preserves the remembrance of the 
time when the smoke went up from here as the smoke of 
a furnace. Nothing lives within its bitter waters. The 
old stories that, like lake Avernus, no bird could skim 
over its bosom and live, are mere fables, but the fish which 
are swept into it from the Jordan are soon thrown up 
lifeless along the shore. The waters are as clear as crys- 
tal, contrasting sharply with the muddy current of the 
Jordan ; but while this latter is otherwise pure and sweet, 
the sparkling liquid of the Dead Sea is heavy with its 
bituminous deposits. Not even the high wind which 
would make Galilee furious, could produce waves of any 
magnitude on the Salt Sea. As a consequence, the wa- 
ters are very buoyant and it is almost impossible either 
to sink, or to swim naturally in them, while floating upon 
them is an easy task. When we stripped and waded in, 
it was with difficulty that we could keep our feet upon 
the slippery bed from which the water lifted us as we 
gradually descended. Finally, hands and feet as well as 
a fair portion of the body were alike thrown into the air 
and, after disporting ourselves sufficiently, we retired 



The Jordan and the Dead Sea. 141 



from our saline bath with unctuous and sticky skins. We 
lingered long enough after dressing only to fill our various 
phials and receptacles with specimens of the briny liquid 
and then rode off in search of the waters of the Jordan, 
a bath in which we proposed to use as a sort of counter- 
irritant. 

The point which we sought was some four miles from 
the mouth of the river and we reached it after an ex- 
hausting ride through a parched and hazy air, and 
over several miles of hard, salty clay, barren of course, 
and deeply fissured under the scorching rays of the sun. 
This special locality is thought to be the neighborhood 
in which the Israelites crossed through the divided waters 
and David afterwards in his ferry-boat ; the place where 
the waters parted beneath Elijah's cloak and where Elisha 
made the axe-head swim ; and above all, the spot where 
our blessed Saviour was baptized. For here, at the same 
spot w 7 here the first Elijah ascended to his reward, the 
second Elijah, John the Baptist, came to carry on his 
predecessor's work of declaring the messages of Jehovah 
to men. 

We immediately undressed and plunged into the sacred 
stream, in whose middle at this point was formally plant- 
ed a large wooden cross. Nearly everywhere else, so 
far as we could see, the banks of clay were so high and 
steep that there was no approach to the water. But here 
the descent was ample and easy as it must needs be to 
accommodate the thousands of pilgrims who flock hither to 
their great annual bath at Easter-tide. Some of them 
defer baptism, so as to receive it in the Jordan, and the 
christening garment of white linen is afterward used as a 
winding sheet. We stood and dipped ourselves repeat- 
edly in the muddy little river which is so reverenced in 
the universal Christian heart, and having a reputation 



142 



Days in the East. 



which belongs not even to the Tiber itself. The current 
is very strong and rapid and has often carried away and 
drowned unwary bathers. But the stream, except in 
places, is not deep, and near the spot where we bathed, 
we afterwards saw a stalwart young Bedouin wade across 
without wetting his garments and weapons which he car- 
ried on his shoulders. And, indeed, to recall the old 
legend, it was hereabouts that Christopher bore across 
the river the Holy Child. 

Purified and refreshed by our delightful immersions, we 
sat down to rest under the shadows of the balsam trees 
and had our luncheon. Behind us silently flowed the 
tawny stream on whose opposite banks of mud and parti- 
colored clay, S. Mary of Egypt mortified the flesh in sol- 
itary penitence. Around us were dense thickets of 
small trees and bushes amid which the lion once lurked 
and which still gives shelter to the leopard and the boar. 
The entire neighborhood, more, perhaps, than any other 
region save those of Jerusalem and Galilee covered 
hardly an acre that was not sacred ground. When, 
again in the saddle, we had ridden back along the shady 
avenue by which we came, we struck directly across the 
plain and sighted the conspicuous tree which marks the 
place where Gilgal stood — the scene of the setting up of 
the twelve stones and the place where the first Passover was 
kept after the entrance into Canaan. Some Bible rec- 
ollection was called forth at eveiy glance of the eye. 
Yonder was the neighborhood where Eglon, King of 
Moab, met his death. There was the place where Sam- 
uel judged Israel and Saul was made a King. Somewhere 
near, David was met by the men of Judah and Elisha 
received the leprous Naaman ; while, where now stand 
the black-cloth tents whose gypsy owners, as we passed, 
were diligently blowing their rude fires with bellows of 



The Jordan and the Dead Sea. 143 

skin, Elislia once healed the poisoned pot. On this 
plain, too, did Herod die and Simon Maccabaeus meet 
his fate. Thus, the two hours of our hot ride flew by, 
but one surprise, of a somewhat extraordinary nature, 
remained as we approached the camp. And that was 
the sight of a stout Arab farmer who, on this fourteenth 
day of November, was busily engaged at work in his 
field with not a stitch of clothing upon his swarthy body, 
save a small takiyeh, or cotton cap on his head and a 
pair of clumsy surmaiyeh on his feet. Somewhat simi- 
lar apparitions we had often seen before, but, on the 
whole, this rather capped the climax. We all agreed 
that no one at home would be likely to believe the story, 
as we ourselves should hardly have done had it not been 
for the testimony of our united optics. New food for 
reflection was thus furnished concerning these rude, full- 
grown children among whom .we were making our tem- 
porary home ; and the conversation of our last night in 
camp was full of interest, as we sat and watched the rosy 
light of sunset flinging its wondrous hues over the purple 
hills and verdant plain. 



IN THE WAY TO JERUSALEM. 



Just before dawn of the following morning we were in 
our saddles. The moon still hung resplendent in the 
deep blue sky. The sunlight was just beginning to tinge 
with its golden glow the opposite ridge of Moab. It was 
an auspicious opening of the great day of our lives before 
whose close our feet should stand, for the first time, 
within the gates of Jerusalem. We rode quietly along 
in the cool fresh air watching the Bedouin camp-fires 
which still flamed afar from the hills on the other side of 
Jordan and the Dead Sea. TTe passed over the valley 
of Achor. Israel's " door of hope," and the memories of 
Achan, the trespasser rose to our minds along with those 
of the blind Bartimeus, who somewhere here felt the 
healing touch of our Lord's hand. Presently we began 
a toilsome and perilous ascent among the rough and jag- 
ged rocks which hedge the way from Jericho to Jerusa- 
lem. Onward and upward we staggered and slipped 
alternately, past ruined acqueducts and crumbling Khans 
— our horses' hoofs striking sparks from the flinty rock at 
every other step. c< Hold Thou my steps and I shall be 
safe "petitions the Psalmist, and it is a prayer which sits 
wisely on the lips of every pilgrim over these hazardous 
roads. Ever and anon we paused and turned in our sad- 
dles to look at the broad plain behind us and the mirror- 
like surface of the Salt Sea. Notwithstanding its rough- 



In the Way to Jerusalem. 145 



ness, this road has ever had a world-wide notoriety. By 
it man}' an Eastern conqueror has led his invading 
squadrons toward Jerusalem. Along its precipitous 
ledges the devout pilgrims of old, tuneful with their joy- 
ous psalms, flocked to the solemn feasts, as thousands 
upon thousands of modern pilgrims now press yearly to 
their favorite bathing places in Jordan's sacred stream. 
On this road many a luckless traveler has fallen among 
thieves and been stripped of all that he had, when no 
good Samaritan was nigh. Far below it, as you ascend 
from Jericho, lies the gorge at whose bottom runs the 
brook Cherith and behind an intervening rock, as we 
were told by Ibrahim, is the traditional cavern in which 
the ravens fed Elijah. These sable birds may still often 
be seen flying along the brown and rockj r walls which 
shut in the chasm. In this secluded pass we reached the 
acme of the wild and picturesque in Palestine. It was a 
fit scene in which to locate a parable like that of our 
Lord concerning the good Samaritan. Dangerous and 
dreary as it is, no wise traveler ever now thinks of going- 
over the road alone and unarmed, although both the dan- 
ger of robbery and the payment of Bedouin blackmail 
which partially insures protection, would both be wiped 
out in two weeks by any other than the backboneless 
government at Jerusalem, less than twenty miles away. 
Things have never been any better, however, and in the 
Middle Ages it was the task of the Knights Templar to 
defend pilgrims through these lawless defiles. The un- 
commendable ardor which never rests until everything 
mentioned in Scripture, hoty and unholy, animate and 
inanimate, has been found and identified, has turned the 
parable of the Good Samaritan into an actual circum- 
stance. In the loneliest part of the way we were gravely 
pointed to the remains of an old Khan as the identical 



146 Days in the East. 



ruin to which, eighteen hundred years since, the Samari- 
tan kindly committed his smitten neighbor ! 

At length, after a hard and rather monotonous ride of 
an hour or two, the dragoman who rode in front sent a 
welcome cry running back along the line of riders behind, 
'•the Mount of Olives!" and sure enough there, a mile 
or two in front, but hitherto hidden by intervening hills, 
rose the nearer side of Olivet. On the other side, con- 
cealed from view lay Gethsemane, the Kedron, Jerusa- 
lem ! We spurred our tired horses and . pressed on with 
fresh vigor, crushing ruthlessly the dusky centipedes 
which lay in the road ; but we were by no means at the 
foot of the ascent just yet. It was already luncheon 
time before we reaehed the point where we must leave 
the valley and begin to climb. Here, within the shadow 
of another ruined khan beside the Apostles' spring, we 
threw our weary frames upon the ground for rest and re- 
freshment. From a spur of the mountain overhead, came 
down upon our ears the otherwise than dulcet music of a 
crying urchin whose cadences were those inimitable and 
peculiar ones which attach to the Arab race. The spring 
beside us has its name from the not improbable tradition 
that the twelve were often in the habit of resting here, 
and is the same as that mentioned in the book of Joshua 
under the name of E 'a- she mesh. 

Luncheon over, we began the steep and weary climb, 
stumbling around the shoulder of the sacred hill, and 
sighting afar the position of old Bahurim where Shimei 
stoned the flying David and Phaltiel went weeping behind 
Michal his wife who was about to be restored to her 
kingly husband. We were now approaching Bethany, 
as we knew by the fact that here, within this chapel at 
one side of the road, was the exact spot whereon stood 
the fig-tree which was cursed, and there was the precise 



In the Way to Jerusalem. 



H7 



point at which Martha met Jesus with the reproach 
"Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not 
died." In a few moments more we were within the wretch- 
ed little town with an entirely Moslem population and 
with no redeeming features save the groves of olive, 
pomegranate, almond and fig, by which it is surrounded. 
As for the palm, it has long since disappeared and Beth- 
any is no longer the "house of dates." Of all the Scrip- 
ture towns which live in memory for the sake of their 
sweet and sacred associations, Bethan} T has sunk the low- 
est. One cannot shake the dust, but he must wipe the 
filth from his feet, as he comes out of it. And yet how 
near the Christian's heart does it ever lie, for the sake of 
what is past. Here began Christ's great train of triumph 
on the first Palm Sunday. Here stood the house of Si- 
mon, the Leper, wherein the Magdalene poured upon His 
head the fragrant ointmert from the box of alabaster. 
From one of those slopes behind the village, rather than 
on that other spot in full view of Jerusalem, our blessed 
Lord may have ascended into Heaven. But sweetest 
and most familiar is the story of that charming little 
household at whose hearthstone shone forth more per- 
haps, than anywhere else, the human nature of the Mas- 
ter. For this was where dwelt Martha and Mar} T and 
their beloved brother Lazarus. 

We dismounted at a dark and narrow door opening in- 
to one of the dismal alleys and taking our feeble tapers 
in our hands, plunged down some steep and slippery steps 
of stone into what is shown as the sepulchre chamber of 
Lazarus. Above the entrance to the little square vault 
is placed the slab which once covered the rock-hewn 
tomb. I do not know how T many feet down we went 
into the darkness to reach it, but certainly the soil of 
Bethany must have been disturbed as much as that of 



148 Days in the East. 



Jerusalem itself, or else there were not man}" who saw 
the resurrection in that narrow hole. But the tempera- 
ments of pilgrims differ and to disagree is human. I 
thought I had seen no more unlikely "find" in all Pales- 
tine ; but, nevertheless, the majorit}' of our pilgrims 
scorned to doubt the identity of this subterranean grave. 
Yet I left it, the same cautious sceptic which I found 
myself, in spite of my own wishes, all through the Holy 
Land. The excess of positive information rilled me with 
dismay. 

From the tomb we rode a few steps farther through the 
village in order to examine the insignificant ruins of the 
house of Martha and Mary. In passing we saw a more 
conspicuous ruin on elevated ground, the reputed house 
of Simon, but probably a mere fragment of some mediae- 
val castle, or convent. There is nothing but fraud and 
disappointment in Bethany itself. The reverent and in- 
trospective mind alone will find satisfaction in musing on 
its hallowed site. I liked it best, one sunny and peace- 
ful afternoon, when, after a quiet walk over the Mount 
of Olives with two companions — one of whom was a 
devout Franciscan monk from the Latin convent at Jeru- 
salem — I first caught sight of it lying on the slope below. 
Here distance concealed its defilements and lent dignity 
and beaut} T to the scene ; and here I chose to see it for 
the last time, turning my back upon the village without 
a nearer approach. After Jerusalem, Bethlehem and 
Nazareth, Bethany to the Christian heart is the dearest 
town in Palestine, and of the four it most needs to be 
looked upon with a tender charity;. 

But already we are passing the fine new convent on 
the top of Olivet. In another moment or two a great 
dream of life — the anticipation of years, will be realized. 



In the Way to Jerusalem. 



149 



We ride forward with beating hearts and eager eyes. 
A little waj^ farther on between these low stone walls, 
a short turn aside into this enclosed area- and halting 
before the parapet just in front of us, at precisely five 
minutes before high noon we first set our longing eyes 
upon Jerusalem ! 



FROM OLIVET TO THE JAFFA GATE. 



There it lay, four-square, on its famous hills in the broad 
golden light of midday, exactly opposite to our own point 
of view ! The plateau shelved towards us in such a 
manner as to show every gate and bastion and dome 
within and around the entire circumference. It was a 
city which, if you were to eliminate the village of Mount 
Sion and the Russian buildings beyond the Jaffa gate, 
would probably be the compactest city on the earth — 
shut completely within walls more perfect, if not so 
massive, than those of Rome. There, round about it, 
stood the hills as they have ever done, since, so long ago 
that his figure is almost too dim to see, Melchisedek is- 
sued from its precincts to meet Abram on his return from 
the slaughter of the kings. Far away down in front of 
us ran the declivity of Olivet until it ended in the tomb- 
paved valley of Jehoshaphat and the bed of the Kedron, 
just beneath the city walls. To the right lay Scopus, the 
Ashes valley, Gethsemane ; to the left, Rephaim, Hinnom, 
Gihon, Siloam. One might look with composure upon 
Rome from the Janiculan, or upon Athens from Lycabet- 
tus, but to gaze upon Jerusalem from the Mount of 
Olives overwhelms us with a burden of associations which, 
in the regal richness of their number and their significance, 
confuse and crush. 

We lifted our eyes again to the city itself. How small 



From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate. 151 

it was ! The enclosure of the mosque of Omar whose 
graceful dome filled the foreground of the picture, cover- 
ed one fourth of the entire area within the walls. And 
yet it was none the less beautiful. Many a traveler has 
been disappointed and naturally so, because it happened 
that he first saw Jerusalem from some other quarter than 
the east. There is no other point like Olivet for discov- 
ering what is left of the u jo} 7 of the whole earth." Next 
to this comes the view from Scopus, but even that falls 
far behind. On Olivet it is all before you in a splendid 
panorama, and, if there be no subjective hindrances, the 
prospect is sure to please the eye, to enthrall the mind 
and to rivet the attention. There are pages of history 
spread before you which it is the delightful task of many 
hours to read. The road whereon you have wound over 
the mountain is that by which great Pompey led his Ro- 
man squadrons toward yonder city. It is the road over 
which came One greater than Pompey, amid shouts of 
"Hosanna" and the spreading of garments and palm- 
branches and at one point of which He, the Conqueror 
Who must die to win, wept over the city whose skirts 
were smeared with the blood of prophets and whose hand 
was already at her Saviour's throat. And that is she who 
is absent from hardly a single generation of history, from 
the clay when she was a Jebusite stronghold to this on 
which you now stand gazing upon her dome-shaped roofs 
within the yellow walls. This was where, on the great 
rock beneath yonder dome, Abram came to slay his son. 
This was the home of prophets and kings, the city prais- 
ed in the "sweet singer's" sweetest strains. This the city 
beside which was enacted the greatest tragedy of earth, 
the precursor of many others, inspired by mistaken zeal 
in behalf of the immaculate Victim. For not only did 
the soldiers of Titus, sword in one hand and torch in the 



Days in the East. 



other, throng with ruthless feet the enclosure of Herod's 
temple, but over these same coveted and hotly contested 
acres before us, rode in seas of Saracenic blood, bold 
crusaders through the mosque of Omar. What a blend- 
ing of associations, sacred and secular ! What almost 
impossible variety in scenes which these hoary hills have 
witnessed. A father pointing in this retired spot the 
sacrificial knife at the bosom of his own son — a city fall- 
ing so often beneath the clash of arms that no generation 
lives and dies ignorant of the sound of siege and battle — 
a palace and a temple and a throne whose glittering sheen 
flashes back the morning sunlight over the hills of Moab 
and perhaps reflects the evening raj's far out upon the 
great sea while their fame draws from afar wondering 
kings and queens with their royal tributes — the most re- 
nowned of the world's teachers dying on a cross between 
two thieves amid darkness and earthquake and the flitting 
hither and thither of shrouded dead— a Roman soldier, 
stern and haughty, afterwards the occupant of the throne 
of the Caesars, weeping over the city which Jewish stub- 
borness compelled him to destroy — while Mary of Beze- 
thor ate her child within the beleagured walls — the mag- 
nificent fane of an alien faith seated over the very Holy 
of Holies of a city which Jehovah had chosen for his 
own — a long and sanguinary struggle between the cross 
and the crescent, symbols of the two greatest religious 
powers known to man — the issue, Jerusalem of to-day 
set truly in the midst of nations and religions — a home 
for all races — a place for all grades and hues of devotion — 
full alike of churches and synagogues and mosques — El 
Khuds — "the Holy," sacred alike to Jew and Christian 
and Mohammedan. Where else are pictures like these set 
in succession in a single frame? To stand and think 
quietly of these things within full view of the very spots 



From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate. 153 

on which thej T have been exhibited and at a point which 
is probably less than a mile from the places both of the 
Crucifixion, and the Ascension of Christ is a pleasure 
which the intelligent pilgrim gets near enough to covet 
and partly appreciate, but which he hardly hopes to taste. 
He can think as he stands afterwards in imagination 
where he has already stood in reality. But for my own 
part I shall not pretend to reflections which came not 
even in my second and third visit to this spot. There is 
little power of composure among the capacities of the 
average man when surrounded by a grimy and sore-eyed 
horde of Arabs of both sexes and of every age, all lift- 
ing up their voices with one accord in a frantic and dis- 
tracting clamour for backsheesh. 

A little way behind us on the highest point of the trip- 
le mount stood the mosque and minaret of Zeitoun, cov- 
ering the place of the Ascension. It is in full view of 
the city itself and in no sense "as far as" Bethany, which 
is a mile or more beyond. But a monkish writer tells us 
that "Jesus did not say 'as far as,' but only 'towards' 
Bethania," which settles the question and certifies the 
place. Therefore we retraced our steps and entering a 
little rotunda whose walls were scratched over with the 
names of a multitude of "small nobodies" from all parts 
of America and Europe, we found two honored memen- 
toes of the tremendous event. One was a foot-print of 
Jesus in the rock, the last earthly touch of His sacred foot. 
The other was the impression left by the end of His staff. 
It may possibly shock the reverence of the reader to see 
things absurd as these even mentioned in a book upon 
the Holy Land. But I must speak of Jerusalem as it is ; 
of the wonders, childish though they be, which every pil- 
grim sees there as a matter of course, of things which, 
let it not be forgotten, are kissed and prayed over and 



*54 



Days in the East. 



bedewed with tears as genuine relics by thousands upon 
thousands of pilgrims who passionately cling with faith to 
traditions over which others are facetious* They believe 
in these impressions and they believe that the other foot- 
print which is missing is the one now retained in the 
mosque of El Aksa where we afterwards saw it, having 
been surreptitiously transferred thither by the Moslems. 
This "church of the Ascension" is one of the two or three 
"Holy Places" in Palestine which is under Mohammedan 
care. For Islam is not without a shred or two of Chris- 
tian faith. It believes in the prophetic office, but not the 
Divinity of Christ. It denies the story of the Crucifixion, 
but credits that of the Ascension. It gives Mahomet — 
apart from Allah — the first, and Jesus, the second part 
in the Judgment of the world. 

Our next point was the convent of the Paternoster a 
little way off on the mountain slope. It is a beautiful 
building with a handsome chapel, and a cloistered court 
along whose walls you may read in letters emblazoned 
on beautifully colored tiles, the Lord's Prayer in thirty 
two languages. On this spot the great model prayer was 
given b}^ our Lord to His disciples. At least such is the 
opinion of the noble lady of France by whose munificence 
this splendid establishment was founded and whose sepul- 
chre now waits to receive her remains within its walls. 
A grave upon the Mount of Olives, with such an institu- 
tion for a monument, is a title to remembrance to which 
not many even among the wealthy can look forward. 

A little distance farther down the hill we found as a mat- 
ter of course, that not uninteresting chapel, once a cistern 
apparently, in whose grotto-like depths the twelve Apos- 
tles composed the Creed. This I mentally catalogued in a 
trio of curiosities, the other two of which were the pair of 
old olive trees on their fictitious platform of stone where 



From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate. 155 



Gabriel foretold the Virgin of her death, and the large 
white rock by the wayside near which in the act of her 
"ascension, body and soul into Heaven," she let fall her 
girdle to S. Thomas, this relic being now venerated at 
Prato, in Tuscany. 

We reached the foot of the Mount of Olives close to 
the garden of Gethsemane but at an hour when admission 
within the enclosure could not be had. So our little cav- 
alcade filed past the grotto of the Agony and the church 
which covers the Virgin's former tomb and turning the 
corner of the garden, rode a few paces along the "Hosan- 
na road." We then descended into the valley of Jehosha- 
phat and presently crossed the stone bridge from which, 
it is said, Jesus was once thrown by his enemies into the 
Kedron. Above our heads on the right rose the wall of 
Moriah, now running downward into the rubbish at a 
depth of an hundred and fifty feet. High up at the top 
was the pinnacle of the temple from whose dizzy height 
the tempter bade his unconquerable Victim cast Himself 
down. On the left ran the course of the torrent, now quite 
dry, and beside it stood the so-called tomb of Absalom. 
The base of the latter, like that of the tomb of Yezeet at 
Damascus, is buried in opprobrious stones, hurled from 
time immemorial by Jews and Moslems as they passed, 
in contempt of him who was a rebel against his father. 
Next to it is the equally authentic tomb of Zacharias, a 
huge square monolith, battered and old and lettered in 
defaced Hebrew, hewn in the rock, with a passage broad 
enough to admit of going complete^ around it. It is 
evidently solid and if there be any opening, it is under- 
ground and undiscovered. There is one more close by, 
the tomb of S. James, a specimen which, in this land of 
rock-caverns and dwellings and tombs, is worthy of exam- 
ination for its own sake. It is a huge cave with a front 



156 



Days in the East. 



of several Doric columns hewn in the rocky wall. 
On a subsequent visit, I effected an entrance by a narrow 
side passage and found it black within from the fires of 
many a generation of shepherds who had driven their 
herds of sheep and goats into its extensive ramifications 
for shelter. Here, it is said, S. James the Less sought 
refuge immediately after the crucifixion and vowed that 
he would neither eat nor drink until Christ should rise. 

Beyond this, with its swallow-like houses clinging to 
the face of the rocks, we espied the curious Arab village 
of Silwan, or Siloam. I rode one day into one end of its 
long narrow lane which serves as a street, and tried to 
come out at the other, but after penetrating some distance 
between low and dirty hovels, splashing through mud 
puddles and urging my donkey up and down low flights 
of slippery stone steps, I had to give it up as a bad job 
and turn back. Before getting out again, however, I 
was obliged to break loose from several stalwart young 
Arabs who, laying hands on my bridle, were determined 
to extort backsheesh. The inhabitants of Siloam bear no 
good character. They are all Moslems and live in 
houses many of which are nothing but rock caves and 
sepulchres with the addition, on this side or that, of a 
fragment or two of rude stone wall. From this un- 
wholesome village the Arab women descend the cliff and 
cross the valley of the Kedron to bring water from a 
brook memorable in Scripture, 

"Siloa's brook that flowed 
Fast by the oracle of God." 

still gushing as of old from far under the temple rock, but 
with abated power of "making glad" the fallen city. This 
subterranean stream of water connects with each other the 
pool of Siloam and the Fountain of the Virgin, both of 
which it supplies, on opposite sides of the rock. Proceed- 



From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate. 1 5 7 

ing southward as we were, we reached first the fountain 
where Mary, the mother of the Lord is said to have washed 
aforetime the Saviour's linen. We went clown a pair of 
dark and slimy steps up which the Moslem women slowly 
toiled, panting and puffing beneath their huge black pig- 
skins of water, and at the bottom found a small, deep 
pool into which the water came from its channel winding 
far into the bowels of the earth. A lithe and limber 
Arab will enter this channel here, and, crawling on his 
hands and knees along the dark and shallow water course 
for seventeen hundred feet, will reissue into dayiight close 
beside the ancient pool of Siloam. Toward this we now 
rode around the corner of the hill, crossing as we went, 
the "softly-going" waters on their way to irrigate and 
fertilize the vegetable gardens in the valley below. Here, 
where fruits and flowers still bloom in their beauty 
throughout the year, once lay the gardens of Solomon. 

We found the ancient pool of Siloam to be like nearly 
everything else in this land of Scripture, a neglected ruin. 
It is in the shape of a deep oblong cistern, over whose 
stone walls once stood a church long since destroyed. A 
short broken column, standing in the low water of the 
pool, is now the sole remnant of this edifice. There was 
no easy method of descent into the pool itself, but, mind- 
ful of the associations of the place, I felt a desire at least 
to bathe m} 7 eyes in the water to which by the command 
of Christ the blind man came to wash his own. For this 
purpose, I descended another steep stair-case at the ad- 
jacent opening to which I have already alluded, but find- 
ing a couple of Arabs harboring lazily- in the shade of the 
narrow precincts, I was glad to abridge my stay by the 
waterside and hasten back into the open air. 

We remounted our horses and turned back again into 
our pathway down the valley, so pregnant with interest. 




158 



Days in the East. 



We bestowed but a passing glance on the old mulberry 
tree, its aged branches propped up by a pillar of loose 
stones, under which as we rode, Ibrahim informed us that 
Isaiah was sawn asunder by the order of Manasseh. A 
little way off to the left we could see the well of En-Ro- 
gel, a favorite rendezvous of lepers and in whose dark 
depths the sacred fire of the temple was hidden during 
the Bab} T lonish captivity. Here the valley of Siloah and 
the Kedron join the vale of Hinnom into which we now 
turned. Casting our eyes up toward the opposite side, 
we saw a broad grassy ledge occupied by two or three 
Arab huts in front of which a dog, or two, were yelping. 
This was the traditional Potter's Field — Aceldama, the 
plot of ground purchased by the priests with the blood- 
money of Christ. Our path now wound through the dark 
and gloomy defile of Hinnom, a vale as sombre and op- 
pressive as its memories. Here it was that the fire long 
ago burned within the hollow brazen figure of Moloch — 
and, while drums drowned their dying cries, the infant 
sons and daughters of Israel were thrown pitilessly into 
his red-hot arms. It is strange how barbarous the chos- 
en people were by instinct, and how meagre were their 
attainments in practical religion. The Old Testament 
histoiy, the more one searches it, exhibits an extravagant 
contrast between the goodness of God and the depravity 
of man. But even unlovely Israel had a righteous king or 
two, even as he had many a faithful prophet ; and bye 
and bye, the good Josiah put a stop to this practice of 
sacrificing helpless babes to Moloch. And when, later 
on, the walls of Jerusalem were compassed round about 
by the portentous hosts of Rome a prophecy of long stand- 
ing was fulfilled and the murderous nation here expiated 
alike its crimes against its feeble offspring and its crucified 
Messiah. During that bloody siege, thousands upon 



From Olivet to the Jaffa Gate. 159 



thousands of corpses filled its depths, turning it into one 
vast burial-trench into which no survivor could, or cared 
to, throw a handful of earth. The smoke of the burning 
offal which once gave this ravine the symbolic name of 
Gehenna, or place of torment, seemed again to rise into 
our nostrils as we rode along. And it was with a feeling 
of relief that we at last saw at the end of the ascent before 
us, the outlines of the tower of David and the Jaffa gate. 
But another incident, which was luckily not an accident, 
was yet in store for us ere we could reach the end of our 
long journey in the saddle. Dr. McKenzie was almost 
the only one of the party who had not yet had a fall. As 
we were pacing slowly upward over the beginning of the 
new road to Hebron, an Arab urchin who was at work 
upon the embankment came driving his rattling wheel- 
barrow right through the rear of our cavalcade. Several 
horses shied and the Doctor was unhorsed, but fortunate- 
\y struck the ground squarely on his feet. The young 
rascal who had been the cause of the mischief immediate- 
ly took to his heels followed by maledictions which cer- 
tainly stood a better chance of overtaking him than an} T - 
thing else we could send in pursuit. 

And now our weary ride was at last over. Tent and 
saddle could now be thrown aside and we did not regret 
to part company with them. It had been twenty-one 
da} T s since we left Beyrout and that was quite enough for 
one stretch. Those whose feelings overcame them, patted 
their steeds upon the neck for the last time, while those 
of us who had lost forever our ideal image of the Arab 
charger, dismounted unceremoniously and walked into 
Feil's Hotel. 



RANDOM STROLLS IN THE HOLY CITY. 



The most memorable night of our entire journey through 
the East was that on which we la} T down to sleep, for the 
first time, under the walls of Jerusalem. The very air 
around our hotel whispered man}* a fact and legend. Oft- 
en had we read the story of the Fuller's Field, and the 
defiance which Rabshakeh hurled at the garrison of this 
city of Jehovah ; but never had we thought to spend the 
night in a modern hotel erected within a stone's throw of 
this very spot. From the windows of the salon we could 
look across the Jaffa road upon the upper pool of Gihon 
and the ground where Isaiah once announced the birth of 
Emmanuel, a Virgin's Child. It was but a step to where 
the youthful Solomon was once anointed King. All 
around us was the former camping ground of Assyrian, 
Roman and Crusader, and we could lie clown with the 
memories alike of Titus and of Tancred in our minds. 
Just opposite us, as we looked from our Southern win- 
dows, once rose the famous tower of Psephinos, and 
somewhere in the neighborhood was the tomb of Herod 
who died at Csesarea, hearing the fawning plaudit of the 
multitude : "It is the voice of a god, not of a man !" It 
was but three minutes' walk in one direction to the Jaffa 
gate, just inside of which was the tower of David and out- 
side, the head of the valle}* of Hinnom and an equal dis- 
tance in another to what was probably the place of the 



Random Strolls in the Holy City. 1 6 1 

true Calvary. On the north and west we could look 
over a wide extent of hill-country every foot of which 
was enriched by its own precious memories ; while to 
the south and east lay the brown-walled city, with its 
flat roofs, domes and minarets overtopping the line of 
its battlements and teeming with its world of associa- 
tions, Scriptural and historical. Had we not been 
so thoroughly fatigued by the hard climb of the day just 
gone, we could not easily have fallen asleep. As it was, 
our brains were stirred by excitement and our hearts in 
a flutter of expectation. We knew that we were at Je- 
rusalem, the great focal point of our Palestine pilgrimage, 
but it w r as very hard to realize the fact. There is some- 
thing strangely impossible in these fulfilments of life long 
dreams. It is all in vain that you attempt to repeople 
these historic places with the characters who once dwelt 
here and made their history. The reality somehow fails 
for the purpose of a background to the story. It is easier 
to fill in your imaginary scenes at home than to conjure 
up the necessary adjuncts to the realities among which 
you actually are. There are doubtless reasons for this, 
but I shall not attempt to .assign them, lest I err in dis- 
crimination. But such was the fact, at least in my own 
experience. 

Still we were in Jerusalem and we must use our time 
with energy, even if the keener pleasures must be rele- 
gated to the sphere of future recollections at home. But 
I shall not in these pages attempt to systematize my own 
daily labor. For the first few daj T s after our arrival we 
had indeed, our special daily programmes under the guid- 
ance of our well-posted dragoman, Ibrahim. But at the 
end of that time our party disbanded and we were left, 
each to his own plans and resources. Some returned al- 
most immediately to Jaffa. Others, of whom I was one, 



1 62 Days in the East. 



lingered several weeks longer in the H0I3- City. During 
this time my strolls through its streets were taken at ran- 
dom, as fancy or convenience dictated. Sacred places 
were visited again and again. The narrow highwa} T s as 
well as the hills round about became perfect^ familiar. 
The home feeling grew upon me and I felt keenly the 
luxury of having got rid at last of that weariest of all 
work, systematic sight-seeing. There was a feeling of 
leisure, and with it a better chance of meditation and in- 
struction. Let me generalize, then, as well as I can, the 
results of my observations in this and the ensuing chap- 
ters. 

The first verse of the seventy-ninth psalm gives us a 
literal picture of modern Jerusalem. The heathen have 
come into the inheritance ; the temple have they defiled ; 
the fallen city has been laid and still lies on heaps. Prob- 
ably no reflecting pilgrim, even he who had seen it first 
with favorable impressions from the brow of Olivet, ever 
stepped within the gates of Jerusalem without an instant 
and bitter sense of disappointment. It is not simply 
that its streets are among the narrowest, dirtiest and 
darkest in the world ; that its shops are small and mean ; 
its houses, habitations whose depths see little of the light 
of day, but are reeking with pestilential odors ; that nine 
per cent, of its meagre population of less than twenty 
thousand are Arabs and Jews whose personal atmosphere 
is strongly suggestive of that of their brute companions 
under the same roofs ; but even this Jerusalem, metamorph- 
osed and degraded as it is, is not the citj T of our Lord 
and His Apostles. The ground trodden by the Saviour's 
feet lies from twenty to forty feet below the present sur- 
face. A little distance from the Jew's wailing place there 
is the remnant of that massive archway which once span- 
ned the Tyropaeon — connecting Sion with Moriah, the 



Random Strolls in the Holy City. 163 

house of Solomon with the temple of the Lord. This 
huge bridge once "amazed" the Queen of Sheba and over 
it Athaliah rushed with "treason" ! on her wicked lips. 
Standing midway upon it, some centuries ago, the ob- 
server might have watched the shadows of our Lord and 
His Apostles falling upon the pavement of the street be- 
low. Now the arch has no apparent apology for having 
existed at all. There is nothing left for it to span. The 
valley is filled up and the street lies buried far below. We 
stand over the debris of a score of centuries. The former 
valleys have been filled up with the wreck and ruin of no 
less than twenty-seven sieges, and seventeen captures, 
and the well-known hills of Zion, Moriah, Acra and Bez- 
etha have become partially obliterated. We tread over 
the remnants of seven separate cities, buried in heaps one 
above another, the eighth on whose slippery stones we 
stand being the humiliated city of to-day. The towns of 
the Jebusites, of Solomon, of Nehemiah, of Herod, of 
Rome, of Omar, of the Crusaders, all lie beneath our feet 
and far out of sight. We are on the same plateau on 
which Jerusalem has always stood ; that is certain — 
proved by the very nature of the ground. There is no 
direction in which the city could have ever spread except 
toward the north — without reaching down into Jehosha- 
phat on one side, or Hinnom on the other. We are on 
the undisputed site of the city of the Bible, but we walk 
over, not in its sacred streets. 

The modern cit} r is completely surrounded by a wall 
the outside of which I have myself encompassed in a 
w T alk of less than a single hour. The circumference is 
consequently not more than three miles. Over four-fifths 
of the area thus enclosed spreads the present population, 
while one-fifth is rough and vacant ground given over to 
rubbish and dung heaps, or the rank growth of the prick- 



164 



Days in the East. 



ly pear. It takes but a short time to walk through every 
one of the streets under the guidance of a competent 
pilot, but one may spend weeks in the effort to master 
for himself their devious windings. Through them how- 
ever. I often plunged at random, taking thankfully what- 
ever experiences happened to fall in my way and always 
able to extricate myself at will by going as straight ahead 
as possible until I sighted some portion of the inside wall 
which at once gave me my bearings. To detail all the 
adventures of these separate excursions would be to con- 
sume and that unprofitably too much time and space. 
Many however were the wonderful things which daity 
came into view. Exhaustless the fund of legends and 
traditions fully satisfying the faith which lacked not ca- 
pacity to take them in. It was a perfect nest of sacred 
sites, unimpeachable in every respect save their genuine- 
ness. Some of these I shall merely mention leaving 
them to be surrounded with their respective halos by 
such of my readers as may have a facility of belief less 
stinted than my own. 

Some traveler has facetiously told us that he once asked 
his dragoman ;i whether he thought that all the blood of 
the prophets that had been slain since the blood of 
righteous Abel was preserved in J erusalem until this daj- ?'' 
The dragoman answered that ^he did not know, but he 
would go and see." The resources are really unfailing. 
Between the Arabs and Jews and Christian Monks, it is 
your own fault if you go away unsatisfied. If you do not 
see what you want — ask for it ; and it is seldom that it is 
not produced. For m^vself I had nothing left to seek. 
At one time an intelligent Jew was my instructor and my 
guide ; at another, an Arab of the native Greek Church ; 
at still another an Arab of the Moslem faith while on sev- 
eral rambles my companion was a genial Franciscan be- 



Random Strolls in the Holy City. 165 

longing to the Latin convent at Jerusalem. Thus, the 
aggregate of information gleaned was as complete as it 
was overwhelming. 

Among those curiosities which I shall not hereafter 
mention in connection with their special sites we were 
shown the famous Via Dolorosa, or the road along which 
Christ proceeded from Gethsemane to Calvary. It is the 
original scene of those stations of the cross wdiich are 
yearly performed in front of the pictured walls and pil- 
lars of Roman churches. The true Via Dolorosa lies, of 
course, far below the present street notwithstanding the 
fact that the house of Veronica, the pillar with the im- 
print of the Saviour's hand, and other relics have miracu- 
lously risen with the debris and always kept in sight at 
the top. And yet I must confess that I never walked 
over these stones — fictitiously hallowed as they are, with- 
out respect and even reverence in my heart. We do not 
always cease to be influenced by a myth, even when we 
have been certified that it is nothing else, and the belief 
of others is momentarily contagious. 

Eveiy Friday afternoon the Franciscan monks, under 
the protection of the Turkish guard, begin at the first 
station and with prayers and chants visit all the sacred 
places upon the way, ending with the last five which are 
within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. One Friday 
I followed the procession from the beginning to the end 
of its course, feeling that if one could but know for cer- 
tain that in the cit} T of Jerusalem, by the same streets, 
following the same track, stopping where Christ stopped, 
he was indeed treading the way of the cross, with what 
happiness and heedlessness of danger might one kneel, 
as did these monks and little band of lay-people, upon 
the hard, rough stones of the public street. The little 
procession was led by a venerable monk with long white 



Days in the East. 



beard and clad in the dress of his order. At each sta- 
tion all kneeled down wherever convenient, upon the 
pavement ; responsive prayers were said for several min- 
utes during which no one was permitted to intrude by 
passing and then, after having bent low and kissed the 
stones upon which they kneeled, all rose and advanced to 
the next station. The sight to me was so novel and so 
intensely interesting in such a place, that I venture to 
give these stations in their order. 

I. The first is at the lower end of the Via Dolorosa 
within the Turkish barracks, which stand upon the site 
of Pilate's judgment-hall and which are opened but once 
a week for the purposes of this service, by permission 
of the government. Here was once the tower of Anto- 
nia where the robes of the high-priest were always pre- 
served, and where Pilate declared our Lord innocent and 
delivered Him up to be crucified. 

II. The second station is just outside this building 
at the place where the u holy stairs," or Scala Santa, now 
at Rome, ascended to the Praetorium. It was here, 
according to tradition, that Jesus saw and took upon His 
shoulders the instrument of His death. 

III. The third station is at the corner of the next 
street which crosses from the Damascus gate. Here, 
lies on the ground against the wall, the broken pillar 
which marks the spot where our Saviour fell for the first 
time beneath His cross. 

IV. At the entrance of a lane in this cross street, a 
little wa} 7 to the left, is the fourth station and the place 
where Jesus is said to have met His afflicted mother. 

V. We find the -fifth station immediately on turning 
an adjacent corner to the right, at which place Simon of 
C}Tene is said to have assisted in bearing the cross. 
There, in the stone wall, is a deep indentation consider- 



Random Strolls in the Holy City. 167 



ed to have been made by the pressure of Jesus' hand in 
the effort to support himself. This spot is kissed by the 
pilgrims and spit upon by the Jews, whenever either of 
them chance to pass that way. 

VI. The sixth station is before the house of S. Ver- 
onica who, as she wiped with her napkin the sacred face, 
received its impression upon the cloth. This napkin is 
now one of the well-known relics of S. Peter's at Rome. 

VII. The seventh station is at the side of the u gate 
of Judgment," where, perforating the ceiling of a shop, 
is the pillar, to which it is affirmed our Lord's sentence 
was attached. It was through this gate, in the opinion 
of some, that all condemned criminals went to the scaf- 
fold. Here Christ fell the second time. 

VIII and IX. At the eighth station, a little further 
on, Christ bade the women of Jerusalem weep not for 
Him but for their own sins ; and at the ninth, which we 
reach by a circuitous route around some modern buildings, 
we find a standing column built into the wall where Jesus 
fell for the third time under the cross. 

X. And then we enter, through the square, the church 
of the Holy Sepulchre itself and ascend a flight of stairs 
to the traditional Calvary. At the top is a cross in the 
pavement marking the tenth station where Jesus was 
stripped of his vestments. 

XI. A little in front of this, near the altar of the Cru- 
cifixion, is a square mosaic in the floor marking the place 
of the eleventh station where Christ was nailed to the 
cross. 

XII. To the left of this, under the high altar, are the 
perforated silver plate and marble slab which cover the 
hole in the rock beneath where the cross is said to have 
stood. Before this is the twelfth station where Jesus 
expired. 



Days in the East. 



XIII. The thirteenth station is performed in front of 
the altar of the Stabat Jfater* placed between the two 
last mentioned. Here Jesus was taken from the cross 
and placed in the arms of His blessed mother. 

XIV. " The fourteenth and last station is under the 
great dome of the church, before the tomb in which our 
Saviour was buried and from which he rose on the first 
Easter morning. 

The entire journey consumed about one hour, including 
the last service in front of the holy Sepulchre, which is 
the most striking and impressive of them all. 

Then there were those minor objects of interest among 
which it must be like a Paradise for the credulous to walk, 
and the least of which, were it but authentic, might arro- 
gate to itself the reverential tribute of a far more skillful 
pen than mine. Such were the houses of "Dives and 
Lazarus" in the Tyropaean Vale, with the humble stone 
seat on which the poor beggar sat, the lean hungry dogs 
of the city licking his sores, while he entreated bread ; the 
site of the house of Simon, the Pharisee, where occurred 
one of the most touching scenes in the life of Christ, 
when Mary Magdalene anointed the sacred feet and wiped 
them with the hair of her head ; the site of the house of 
S. Anne, where was born, according to Latin tradition, 
the "immaculate mother of God ;" the edifice from whose 
staircase S. Paul addressed the Jewish mob and near 
which they would have scourged him had he not declared 
himself a Roman, and finally escaped by the warning 
words of his nephew ; the church which occupies the spot 
whereon once stood the house of the High priest. Annas, 
where our Lord received the soldier's blow ; the olive 
trees to whose parent stems our Lord was tied while 
awaiting the decree of execution : the spot on which James 
the Greater was by Herod slain ; the place where the 



Random Strolls in the Holy City. 169 



Ethiopic tradition declares that Abram came to slay his 
son and the olive-tree wherein the ram was caught by his 
horns, the painting of the same in the Syrian convent 
being one of the most ludicrous things I have ever seen 
and making one wonder how the creature ever got away 
up there some ten* or twelve feet from the ground ; the 
house of Caiaphas in the suburb of Mount Zion, where is 
the stone on which stood the crowing cock at Peter's de- 
nial of his Master ; the little apartment in which Christ 
spent His last sad earthly night and a part of the stone 
rolled away by the angels from the mouth of the sepulchre ; 
the place where the Virgin and S. John lived together and 
where the former died ; the ground once consecrated by the 
house of that Mary, to whose dwelling came S. Peter, mi- 
raculously liberated from his chains, and whose door the 
timid Rhoda feared to open. Let us not enlarge the list. 
These are specimens enough of things which it is surely 
something to have seen, as any one may do, who will 
take the trouble to journey to Jerusalem. Of course we 
saw besides the 44 speaking stone" already made famous 
enough in one of the chapters of the "New Pilgrim's 
Progress." 

But let no one suppose that there are not other things 
in the highways and by wa} T s whose genuineness is several 
degrees higher. I know of no good reason to doubt the 
alleged site of the fortress of Antonia, or the tower of 
David, or the pool of Hezekiah, or of Herod's palace 
now partly occupied by the pretty English Church. These 
things have been pretty well settled, as has also the tomb 
of David in the village of Mount Zion. I went over to 
this latter place several times during my stay in Jerusa- 
lem, not only because it was the most probable tomb of 
"the sweet singer of Israel," but because of the sacred- 
ness of the ground around it. Standing on the brow of 



Days in the East. 



Zion you look down into the Valley of Hinnora, meeting 
half way the little English cemeteiy where, beneath the 
olive's shade, lie among other strangers in a strange land, 
the good bishops, Gobat and Barclay. At your feet are 
the numerous sepulchres of various Eastern sects now 
almost covering the ground whereon Raymond of Tou- 
louse planted his engines against the Holy City. Upon 
the cliffs behind you once rose the proud palaces of Zion 
in da}'s when the mountain sides were far more abrupt 
than they are now, the palaces in whose defence the Jews 
fell in slaughtered heaps, preferring to die rather than 
yield to Roman arms. Above all this was, for ages, the 
permanent resting place of the Ark of God. As you 
turn to enter the village enclosure 3-ou stoop in 3-our pas- 
sage through the stone gateway, now hung with chains 
in such a manner as to prevent the violent entrance of a 
horseman. A short distance inside a turn to the left 
brings you to the door of a sort of mosque within which, 
but at some distance below the floor, is the reputed sepul- 
chre of the great king. The reader will perhaps recall 
to mind in this connection the stories of its miraculous 
rescue from the spoiler's hands, notably those of Hyrca- 
nus and Herod. It is said that Miss Barclay-, in success- 
ful though hazardous disguise, is the 011I3- Christian who 
has been permitted to see it and there has been some 
doubt, I believe, even as to the perfection of her own 
achievement. The high, ugl} r structure covered with 
dusty and gaudy colored cloths, upon which alone the 
jealous Mohammedan at present permits the modern trav- 
eler to peer through an iron grating, is of course only "a 
blind." There is no reason for doubting, however, that 
the real tomb is below ; though much will remain shroud- 
ed in rm-steiy until Moslem fanaticism allows an intelli- 
gent investigation in the clear light of day. 



Random Strolls in the Holy City, 1 71 

The ante-room through which one passes on his way 
to look at the false tomb is called the Cenacle, or room 
in which Christ ate the Last Supper with His disciples. 
It is not large and is built in a style of architecture, with 
pillars and vaulted roof, which positively forbids its be- 
longing to the time of Christ — even were the story true 
of its single miraculous preservation amid the ruin and 
desolation of the neighboring city. Multitudes, however, 
believe in its genuineness and testify to their faith by 
thronging hither in great crowds on every Maundy Thurs- 
day to see the Latin Monks in imitation of our Lord, 
wash the feet of numerous pilgrims. Brother Lievin de 
Hamme whose "Guide to the Holy Places" — gives me, 
albeit with too much confidence, a great deal of informa- 
tion for which I search in vain the pages of Baedeker and 
Murray, says that this divine apartment is sacred for di- 
vers other reasons than the one above mentioned. For 
not only was it here that Christ appeared twice after His 
death, but here Matthias was elected to the place and 
privileges of Judas, and Stephen, with the other six, ap- 
pointed deacons. Here was where the Holy Spirit de- 
scended on the day of Pentecost, where S. James was 
made Bishop of Jerusalem, and where also was institu- 
ted the rite of Holy Confirmation. Such marvelous pre- 
cision is a great comfort in a region over which the clouds 
of uncertainty have hitherto been supposed to hang thick 
and dark. 



THE LYRIC OF A NATION'S WOE. 



Ox the next day after our arrival in Jerusalem which 
was Friday, we went to the "wailing-plaee" to see that 
famous and touching spectacle to which no Palestine pil- 
grim forgets to allude. The afternoon was fine and the 
weepers were out in scores. Fully one hundred were 
there — some of them dilapidated looking Rabbis sad and 
grave, in gabardines and with a long cork-screw curl 
hanging down before each ear ; others, haggard old wom- 
en whose eyes filled with tears as they stood with their 
backs towards us and their lips pressed against the few 
cold stones which yet remain — huge blocks in the old 
temple wall. Here, beneath the protection of the Mos- 
lem sword, they come to chant their weekly ••lyric of a 
nation's woe." Before this broken foundation they mur- 
mur over and over again the most affecting passages of 
their books of Fsalms and Prayers — the meanwhile sway- 
ing their heads and bodies to and fro as thev read : 

Rabbin. We beseech thee to have pity on Sion. 

People. Reassemble the children of Jerusalem. 

Rabbin. Hasten, hasten, Saviour of Sion ! 

People. Speak in favour of Jerusalem. 

Rabbin. That beauty and majesty may surround Sion. 

People. Turn with clemency toward Jerusalem. 

Rabbin. That the royal power may soon be reestab- 
lished in Sion. 



The Lyric of a Nations Woe, 173 



People. Comfort those who weep over Jerusalem. 
Rabbin. That peace and happiness may enter Sion. 
People. And the rod of Thy power be raised over 
Jerusalem. 

The mourners are a sorry set of men and women, at- 
tired in such a manner as to excite the rislbles of a friv- 
olous mind, but there is a pathetic element which forbids 
the breach of a compassionate courtesy, either in thought 
or act. By the sufferance of hated foes they are allowed 
to come over continents and seas and bemoan thus pub- 
licly their alien condition even within the walls of their 
own capital, and beneath the shadow of their ruined tem- 
ple. The}' are strangers and outcasts in the home of 
their fore-fathers. The star and crescent floats over the 
city of David and Solomon, to whose mountain breezes 
the flag of Judah is no more unfurled. There is no pres- 
ent lot, nor inheritance for the Hebrew in his ancient 
possessions, save perchance a few feet of earth for a 
grave. And yet our pit}' must be qualified. This crav- 
ing after a second localization of worship at Jerusalem 
can be met with little sj'mpathy from a Christian heart. 
It was -indeed affecting to see their pale and haggard 
cheeks laid so affectionately against the battered blocks 
upon whose ledges burned here and there the tributary 
tapers and along whose faces flitted to and fro the little 
birds among the herbage which sprouted as the hyssop 
out of the wall. And yet is not their distress but the 
fulfilment of the prophet's words? Did not this people 
cry "His blood be on us, and on our children?" And 
where are there to be found more stubborn unbelievers 
in the mission of Messiah than those who now wail and 
lament over these broken stones ? 

We will not however, take it upon ourselves to cen- 
sure this singular race which, decayed and blighted as 



174 



Days in the East. 



it is, has nevertheless sometimes shamed its persecutors 
by heroic examples of patience, courage and endurance. 
We cannot forget that the Hebrew galaxy is lustrous 
with inany a bright and shining name. We have heard 
of a Rothschild, a Mendelssohn, a DTsraeli, a Neander, 
a Rachel, and the nation which gave them, and others 
like them, birth and breeding, demands respect. It is a 
nation with a splendid pedigree — a nation whose ances- 
tors, as one of their posterity has said, were princes in 
the temple while the forefathers of the lordly Gentiles 
were digging roots in the forest. It is a versatile and 
shrewd and ubiquitous people, so much so that their natu- 
ral advantages have tantalized some one with the brilliant 
thought of what splendid missionaries they would make 
if they were ail converted — acquainted as they are in 
some portions of their scattered families with all the 
climates and tongues and customs of the world ! But 
still the typical Jew of Jerusalem, of Tiberias, of He- 
bron, is a disappointment. There is nothing noble in his 
wizen face. There is nothing venerable in his shabby 
attire. There is much that is Pharisaical and sordid and 
uncleanly in his entire appearance. The Jewish quarter 
of Jerusalem has several synagogues, three of which I 
took the opportunity of visiting on the evening of the 
Hebrew Sabbath when the service was proceeding. They 
belonged respectively to the Spaniards, Germans and 
Poles. The hand of the synagogue clock was moving 
toward the hour of twelve which it would reach about 
sunset, and the oil lamps and candles were already be- 
ginning to flare over the high seats and desks, although 
it was yet broad daylight. In one of these places we 
saw the harp hung upon the willows in all the hideousness 
of a rude wall fresco, while other symbols of grief and 
depression were daubingly portrayed upon the panels. 



The Lyric of a Nations Woe. 175 



But there was nothing elevating in the places or their 
congregations. There were in those old fur-trimmed 
gabardines and beneath those faded velvet caps, neither 
forms nor features such as one would like to imagine 
moving through the pages of the Old Testament history. 
We could see little of the Joseph, or the Samuel in the 
meagre physiognomies of the juvenile imitators of their 
elders, who alternate^ leered at us from between their 
dandyish curls and recited their Hebrew, swaying their 
bodies all the time with a diligence which was painful to 
behold. To be sure there were degrees of squalid ness. 
The Spaniards were a little more dignified in person and 
attire ; the Poles, a trifle less clean than their German 
brethren. But on the whole they are the sort of people 
who, like their Arab neighbors, leave the decaying car- 
cass of a dog or donkey lying for days before their doors 
rather than undergo the exertion of moving it. But it 
must not be supposed that they are all the set of unthrifty 
idlers they have been supposed to be, living on the 
alms sent them from abroad. There are worthy excep- 
tions to be found, as witness the results of works among 
them like that of Sir Moses Montefiore, or the English 
Church Mission to the Jews of Palestine. 

One of the visits w T hich I remember with peculiar 
pleasure was that to the Franciscan monastery of 
which our good Father Paulinus was an inmate. It gave 
me a new insight into cloister life and proved that one 
monastic institution at least was exempt from the current 
imputations of idleness and inefficiency to "the religious." 
Here the brethren were at work like bees. We went first 
into the printing office where various manuals, used in 
mission work, are printed, bound, and exposed for sale. 
One of several which I brought away with me was a book 
of Latin devotions, translated into English by the 



i 7 6 



Days in the East. 



Marquis of Bute. Hence we went into the mill where two 
strong, hooded mules were engaged in turning the heavy 
millstones under the superintendence of a monk whose 
brown robe and rosary bore testimony to his occupation 
in the snowy molecules with which they were plentifully 
besprinkled. In the cabinet shop we found more of these 
long frocked artisans, this time covered with dust and 
shavings, and here the foreman, an active but venerable 
monk, showed me a cross of sacred woods which was be- 
ing prepared for an altar in S. Patrick's Cathedral, in 
New York City. In the bakery and in the smithy we 
found other members of the order as busy as the rest, the 
workmen of the latter being engaged in forging altar rail- 
ings and screens for the new church which the convent 
is now erecting. Those who know the familiar engrav- 
ing of "The Sculptor Monk" will best appreciate these 
curious scenes, but after all a monk engaged with the 
hammer and the chisel, has not reached the same degree 
of self-abasement as his brother who with floury face, 
stands over the bakers oven, or wipes the soot and the 
perspiration together from his brow as he pauses for a mo- 
ment between the forge and the anvil. A closer and more 
practical blending of the active and contemplative, I nev- 
er expect to see. 

It is my desire to bestow the attention of a special 
chapter to each of the pre-eminent features of Jerusalem, 
the church of the Holy Sepulchre and Mount Moriah and 
so I have endeavored to dispose of less important matters 
in this. But it is impossible even to allude to all the 
odds and ends of adventure with which our random strolls 
enriched us. Now we were running into the Austrian 
hospice to inspect the internal arrangements of that noble 
caravanserai, where the Austrian emperor had latelj* 
lodged and left a superb token of his visit in the fine chap- 



The Lyric of a Nation s Woe, 177 



el altar of Salzburg marble. Here, too, we saw the sig- 
nature of his imperial majesty, as well as those of Czer- 
nin, Lobkowitz and the Latin Patriarch of the Holy City. 
Now we stepped within some Syrian, or Armenian, or 
Coptic church, finding every where something to arrest 
our attention and somebody to take our backsheesh. Here 
was some curious old painting without either perspective, 
or common sense, exciting mirth and routing reverence. 
There, behind a grating but near enough to be touched 
by pilgrim lips, were some old relics : in one case, three 
large, unhewn stones, one from Sinai, another from Tabor, 
another from the Jordan's bed. When the eye was unat- 
tracted, the ear was busy listening to the dull droning of 
some monkish circle of an Eastern church, two of whom 
would hold an enormous book with gem-studded covers 
while the rest hovered around with tapers in their hands ; 
and at the temple door we would pause to ring changes 
with our finger-tips upon the horizontal metal bars which, 
when struck with heavier blows, served the useful purpose 
of church bells. Often did we stop to watch those who, 
more devout than we, kneeled and passed their prayer- 
books and flower cards over altar stones, hallowed by as- 
sociation with some saint and when they had done, both 
we and they shared in the sprinkling with rose water and 
the benediction of some grave and white haired father of 
the Church. Now we were following the Saviour's foot- 
steps, as He went from Gethsemane to Annas' house and 
again, leaping upon the battlements to gaze down into 
the bed of the Kedron. We walked among the huge 
square columns and deep cisterns which now speak mute- 
ly of their builders — those brave Hospitallers, the open 
hearted brothers of S. John ; and inspected that huge 
tank of green and fetid water known as the pool of Heze- 
kiah upon which you may look down, as we did, from the 



178 



Days in the East. 



window of Nino's coffee-house, on the side balcony of the 
Mediterranean Hotel. We slighted not the so-called 
house of Helena, the hardly more certain pool of Bethes- 
da, and the massive remnant of Jannaeus' funeral pile. 
But oftenest did we pass in and out of the Jaffa gate, 
lingering now to observe those old grey foundation stones 
in David's tower upon which, if upon anything in mod- 
ern Jerusalem, our Lord's eyes must have rested and 
which recalls at once the shame and glory of him whose 
home it was, first seeing and longing for Bath-sbeba from 
its top, and afterwards there breathing his deep repen- 
tance in one of his finest psalms ; and pausing again to 
watch the varied scenes of life and activity which the 
neighborhood of this celebrated gate ever affords. Scores 
of times did we pass in and out of the huge grim portal 
and alway did we find the people collected there for trade 
and gossip, just as they assembled for the same purpose 
centuries ago, when Old Testament worthies made their 
covenants ^before the face of all who went in at the gate 
of the city." 

The neighborhood of this gate and the little square just 
inside and in front of the Mediterranean Hotel together 
present a complete epitome of the native life and charac- 
ters of Jerusalem. Here are to be seen all types of 
Oriental life, at some hour in the course of the day. Here 
you may transact all kinds of business from buying an 
orange to hiring a cart or a camel. Here you will see 
passing, or stationary, all orders of men from the intelli- 
gent looking little pasha himself on his large white don- 
key, to the blear-eyed cripple who squats against the city 
wall and darts out upon you with his crutches or knee- 
boards, yelling piteously "backsheesh! backsheesh I chow- 
ageh, backsheesh F At intervals along the road between 
the gate and the Hotel Feil sit leprous men and women 



The Lyric of a Nations Woe. 1 79 



with covered faces and coarse blue gowns ; their features 
blotched and swollen, covered with knots and ulcers, with 
fingerless hands and toeless feet and just enough power 
of articulation left to whisper hoarsely "choivageh, back- 
sJieesh ,/" "Sir, an alms !" I came to know these beggars 
individually, after a while. I saw them every day and 
learned their characters. I knew just where I should 
find them and the precise words with which they would 
greet me. The inevitable formula of one sturd} T but hump- 
backed rogue who evidently throve by his trade and nev- 
er forewent the luxury of his cigarette, was, "Good morn- 
ing, S ignore; backsheesh! backsheesh!" With this mea- 
gre mixture of English, Italian and Arabic, he would lie 
in wait near the hotel and follow me at any hour of the 
da}' along the Jaffa road, through the gate and as far as 
his patience held out, down the street of David. Then 
with so keenly reproachful a "good-bye" that it would 
have cut me to the quick had it come from the lips of a 
less persistent rascal, he would turn and hobble lazily 
away. I had made the common mistake of giving him 
backsheesh the first day or two on arriving, instead of the 
last ten minutes before departing from Jerusalem ; and 
for three weeks I was certain of at least one cordial 
"good morning" whenever I went out. Then there was 
another, distinguished from the multitude, a little girl of 
perhaps eight years clad in dirt with the addition of a 
single ragged garment of cloth, whose elders at home 
were evidently instructing her in ways that were dark and 
whose perseverance was also like that of a summer fly 
upon a sleeper's face. But the one into whose tin buck- 
et I most delighted to drop my paras and piastres was a 
middle-aged leper, silent and forlorn — the picture of de- 
spair — who sat daily in his place in rain and sunshine and 
never opened his lips. Perhaps his speech had departed ; 



i8o 



Days in the East, 



at any rate it was the crying aloud of a " voiceless 
woe/' 

But dirt and rags do not necessarily mean poverty any- 
where in Palestine. There are many beggars, but some 
of them are the possessors of hid treasure — money which 
the} T have put away not in a bank, but in some corner of 
the house or field known only to themselves. This is 
necessaiy for security and the faded garments are a blind 
and a disguise. There is no difference of dress to tell the 
tale of wealth and meanwhile every one in the East, rich 
or poor can twist into the most graceful folds his old tat- 
ters bright with every color of the iris. There is many 
a Bedouin woman within three feet of whom the fastidious 
Parisienne would, under no circumstances, like to come, 
whose coarse gown yet falls from her shoulders in folds 
whose grace Worth may equal, but not surpass. Even 
the scantily clad children, from whose hands as the}^ sit 
in the streets the prowling dogs snatch the meagre crumbs, 
sometimes look as if they had been taken out of some 
graceful Eastern picture. For the difference between the 
picture and its original lies not in attitudes and lines of 
beauty ; but in dirt and disease and insects and odor. 



THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEP- 
ULCHRE. 



The focal point of interest in Jerusalem is the Church 
of the Holy Sepulchre. Not that the traveler may find 
there, any more than anywhere else in the Holy City, a 
single undisputed site, but the belief of nineteen-twenti- 
eths of the pilgrims who annually visit Jerusalem centres 
under its broad dome around the reputed rock of Cal- 
vary and the garden tomb wherein our Lord laj\ The 
arguments for and against the genuineness of these 
things it would be a thankless task to discuss. We shall 
probably never know these sacred sites beyond all doubt. 
We can, if we choose, weigh the evidence and form our 
own opinions. But the attempt will not be made in this 
chapter which aspires to deal with nothing more learned 
and accurate than general impressions. Our task is not 
to test theories, but to portray things as we find them. 

On the day after our arrival we visited this church, 
but not under convo}' of our courteous dragoman, Ibra- 
him. No Jew is permitted to tread within the precincts 
of the Holy Sepulchre and so we took Joseph, a native 
Christian, for our guide. We went down the "Street of 
David" and entering by a low door through a long pas- 
sage thronged with beggars and bead-sellers, we stood at 
last before the open court, having in front of us the 
hoary facade of the historic church and, a little way be- 



182 



Days in the East. 



hind, the graceful minaret of Omar with herbage sprout- 
ing from its top. This minaret is, by the way, a monu- 
ment of Moslem magnanimity. The large-hearted old 
caliph wanted to share the privileges of the Christians in 
this holy place, but he would not use his power of intru- 
sion into the sacred fane. Instead, he built this mosque 
so that he might pray as near as possible without disturb- 
ing the Christians. There is a mosque on the other side 
also of the church of the Crucifixion and the Sepulchre, 
and so the rival religions of Christ and Mahomet still 
crowd each other, as they have always done, around this 
hotly contested spot, albeit the sword remains at present 
sheathed. Could one find an hour of the day when there 
were no relic buyers and sellers scattered over the broken 
pavement of this court, no odorous pilgrims, no human 
deformities yelling their importunities in the weary ear, 
one might sit down upon the stump of one of the row of 
broken pillars and conjure up the history of that church 
in comparison with whose fame, the fame of other noted 
temples in Christendom sinks into insignificance. But it 
is impossible to think here at any hour when the church 
stands open. You must be content to observe at such a 
time and do your meditating afterward. Still we cannot 
altogether forget how the quaint old building has been the 
bone of contention in the Christian world itself, ever since 
all Europe joined arms to wrest it from Islam. The keys 
of the Sepulchre and the silver star in the cave of the Xa- 
tivity at Bethlehem are partly responsible for many a 
bloody page of history. The quarrels of a few monks con- 
cerning them have often disturbed the peace of nations and 
but lately given the Czar an excuse for his ambition and 
helped on the Crimean War. It is a world interest which 
centres here, as we plainty see by the strange and vary- 
ing attire of this motley array of pilgrims from all quar- 



The Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 183 



ters of the earth. Let us join it and, after pressing 
through the low portal, we shall find ample room within. 

But before attempting to guide the reader through the 
rambling old church it may be necessary to apologize for 
the enumeration even of absurdities. The ample build- 
ing covers too man}' sites and relics — that is a foregone 
conclusion. For one thing you may be tempted to believe 
in, there are a dozen to doubt and deny. Nevertheless, 
if we are to reproduce the church as it is and as the 
tourist will see it when he visits the Holy City, even de- 
tails which are worthless must be mentioned. Things 
which are even painful must be told. "Jerusalem is to 
me the saddest place in the world, the place of worship 
of a dead Christ," said an English clergyman to me as 
we sat together one evening in front of the little Chapel 
of the Holy Sepulchre. It was a wise remark which 
sounds untrue only out of Jerusalem itself. The sceptic 
finds no aid to faith in these dazzling and deceitful 
shrines. The disciple who knows something of the real 
mysteries and blessings of the cross and sepulchre will 
be startled to find his anticipated emotions routed by the 
lying caricatures of his religion, while the Turk who sips 
his coffee at the door and keeps the peace between the 
rival Christian sects, laughs to scorn the idea of mission- 
ary effort which seeks to replace the morality of the 
Koran with that which his own eyes teach him to be so 
much less dignified and holy. To him all Christians are 
alike. He knows no difference of sect — no opposing 
phases of faith. Of course, we are not moved by the 
depreciation of one who has no real knowledge of what 
Christianity is. But he has occasion, if not excuse, for 
his contempt. No honest and candid Christian who has 
been to Jerusalem will den}' it. And he will seek in vain 
for any other place where the matchless religion of Christ 



184 Days in the East. 



shows so little of its practical loveliness as in the city 
and church which are supposed to contain the spots on 
which its Divine Founder was crucified and entombed. 

As we enter the venerable doorway, there lies before 
us the "Stone of unction." It is surrounded by huge, 
candles of colored wax and overhung with seven large 
silver lamps which are kept constantly burning. The 
rose colored slab which we look upon is but a covering, 
however, for the real stone on which the anointment was 
made, and which lies beneath. On several occasions 
when I visited this church, the Greek priests in their 
gorgeously colored copes, stood round about this stone 
with smoking censers, while a group of pilgrims fringed 
the circle, clad in coarse garments and holding lighted 
tapers in their hands. The scene thus presented was one 
thoroughly characteristic of the church. Xot far away 
to the left, a circular stone set in the floor and guarded 
by an iron railing marks the spot where the holy women 
• tood while the anointing was carried on. Passing hence 
between two of the large square pillars which support 
dome, we find ourselves within a spacious rotunda — 
its centre occupied by a little marble chapel. In this 
latter are two compartments — the first of which is a ves- 
tioule containing on a pedestal a portion of the stone 
once rolled away from the Sepulchre. From this outer 
chamber a low door, through which no one except the 
smallest dwarf could enter without making a rever- 
ence, whether he will or not. leads to the innermost 
room in which not more than half a dozen persons can 
stand together. Along the whole of that side of the 
chamber on your right as you enter, runs, at a height of 
perhaps two feet from the floor, the flat marble slab, 
cracked through the middle, which covers the tomb in 
which the Lord lay. Above this sepulchre hang numer- 



The Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 185 

ous burning lamps of gold and silver, the gifts of the 
crowned heads of Europe. The marble slab is used as 
an altar by the Greek and Latin priests who, over what 
they consider the very tomb of Him who is u the Resur- 
rection and the Life," here say, pro vivis. et defunctis — 
their frequent masses. This is the place where the world's 
devotion centres ; this the stone which is daily saluted 
with a myriad reverent kisses and bedewed with rivers 
of water from pilgrim e} T es. No man can look upon its 
smoothty worn edges and curl his lip in contempt. On 
the spot at least he must show respect ; for it is the place 
of human griefs and tears. It is a place of superstition, 
if you will, but it is sacred to the humble mind — the 
broken heart. If this be indeed that garden-tomb then 
3'ou look upon the spot on which was born man's only 
certain hope of immortality. It was for this that God- 
frey of Bouillon, whose former tomb is pointed out to 
you close by, led his crusading hosts against the Sara- 
cens. It was for this small piece of rock, consecrated 
by the repose of the Saviour's bod} r , that Coeur-de-Lion 
of England and Louis the Ninth, of France left their 
kingdoms and their thrones, Here kings and queens and 
knights and pilgrims have kneeled and prayed and bathed 
this stone in tears for many long and weary ages. It is 
a place sacred in belief, if not in reality — a place where 
men may bring their thoughts of those "long loved and 
lost," finding comfort and strength not in the stone, but 
in the thoughts to which it gives birth. 

The same can hardly be said of the pageants and pro- 
cessions which daily move through the church and termi- 
nate their service before this chapel of the Sepulchre. 
Reverence may attach to a sacred spot far more easily 
than to the puerilities with which men choose to worship 
it, and I must confess that a due regard to the religious 



1 86 Days in the East. 



feelings of those who worship thus, alone restrains the 
observer from visible, though silent expressions of dis- 
gust. Sometimes, however, there was a certain weird- 
ness and solemnity about these ceremonials which I found 
it hard to resist. At such times, had I followed prompt- 
ings from within, I might have kneeled and prayed, as 
others did, upon the sacred stones. I remember one af- 
ternoon when I happened to be in the church while serv- 
ice was going on and was deeply impressed with its sad- 
ness and its strangeness. On this occasion, the sunlight 
was fast withdrawing from the always dark and shadowy 
interior. Weird and dusk}' forms flitted hither and thither 
between the great square pillars which support the lofty 
dome. For a while there was a solemn silence, save 
where in front of the chapel of the holy tomb, knelt the 
little group of brown-frocked monks with burning tapers 
in their hands. Within the chapel had gone, with book 
and censer, good Father Paulinas who happened to be 
the chief officiant for the day and to whose friendship 
and guidance I owe much of my knowledge of the holy 
places of Jerusalem. His clear intonations, faintly heard 
within the low archways, were answered by the mourn- 
ful responses of his kneeling brethren without. Back of 
these knelt a handful of poor pilgrims, vivid pictures of 
ignorant devotion, who had perhaps journeyed wearily 
over many hundred miles of land and sea for the sole 
purpose which they were now engaged in prosecuting. 
Such a scene at such an hour before the possible tomb in 
which once lay the crucified form of the Lord Jesus — 
who could describe it ! Although no worshiper, I could 
hardlv prevent — nor was I anxious to do so — a certain 
spirit of credulity and devotion from stealing over me. 
Presently all was over and the Franciscans withdrew into 
their own chapel. 



SACRED SITES. 



Behind the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre is a dark 
chamber within which we were shown, by the light of ta- 
pers, the tombs of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. 

In front of it is the richly ornamented chapel of the 
Greeks. Here is seen the celebrated "navel of the earth" 
which consists of a globe of stone set in a marble vase. 
It stands, as your guide gravely assures ytm, over the spot 
whence was taken the clay out of which Adam was made. 
On the other side of the great rotunda, from that by which 
we entered, are two spots near each other in the pave- 
ment, one marked by a circle, the other by a star. On 
the former stood Jesus when He appeared to Mavy Mag- 
dalene who was standing on the latter. Around these 
spots kneel daily the Latin monks chanting their litanies 
and swinging their censers. A step or two beyond we 
enter the Latin chapel where we find similarly marked in 
the floor the spot w T hereon Jesus appeared to His Mother. 
But the great treasure of this place is a portion of that 
pillar at which our Lord was scourged — and arranged in 
a manner similar to that which I saw in the case of the 
rival pillar at S. Prassede, in Rome. It is entirely con- 
cealed within a dark recess behind an iron screen over 
one of the side altars and is touched by the faithful through 
the medium of a short rod whose end having been brought 
into contact with it, is afterward kissed by the pilgrim. 



i88 



Days in the East. 



Indeed several whom I observed touched, with the end 
of the rod, not only their lips, bat the forehead, eyes and 
nose as well. As we emerge from the chapel we enter 
the door of the Sacristy on the left where are preserved 
the sword and spurs of Godfrey, the Crusader. I ven- 
tured to believe that this sword which I held reverently 
in my hand was indeed that which had fought so hard for 
the holy tomb only a few feet away. The memories 
of the gallant leader came to mind and with them that of 
how he spurned away the proffered diadem, crying : -Xo 
crown of gold for me, when Jesus wore a crown of thorns !" 
There was a spirit of chivalry and nobleness about 
those bold crusaders which we cannot help but admire. 
They were engaged in what was to them a -holy war," 
with "the will of God*' for its warrant and a frantic en- 
thusiasm thrilled through every heart and added force to 
every blow. 

Pursuing our way along the dark and shadowy aisles 
we entered a gloomy prison-like chapel, where lamps burn- 
ed above two small round holes, as if for stocks — with 
which the floor was perforated and which are called the 
••bonds of Christ." Here, it is said, our Lord was con- 
fined while awaiting the decree of execution. Here as 
elsewhere the extremes of devotion may be witnessed and 
I have watched many a one with wonder in this sombre 
place, bowing his head to the very floor which he devoutly 
kissed — and anointing himself with oil taken on the finger- 
tips from the little open lamps. Xext we reach the chapel 
of S. Longinus, who was blind in one eye, and whose 
spear it tvas that pierced the Saviour's side while down 
the weapon ran the mingled blood and water until it 
reached the soldier's hand. Happening to raise his 
hand to his face the sacred liquid touched the sightless 
eye and a miracle of healing followed. Longinus there- 



Sacred Sites. 



189 



fore, believed in Christ and here was murdered by the 
Jews. Here is said once to have been preserved the 
title which hung at the head of the cross and which 
is now reverenced at the church of Santa Croce, in 
Koine. Adjoining is the chapel of the dividing of the 
vesture of our Lord and beyond it a broad stone stair- 
case descends into S. Helen's crypt. In the side of the 
apse of this subterranean chapel is a window seat where 
Helena prayed as she watched the process of the 4 'Inven- 
tion of the Cross" in a cavern running still deeper into a 
rock. We descended a second flight of stairs into this 
and saw, beneath its rocky roof, the slab which now cov- 
ers the old well among whose rubbish the precious rel- 
ics were discovered. Altogether, it was a rich yield of 
all three crosses, the nails and the crown of thorns. The 
cross of Jesus was, of course, identified by a miracle — 
proving its power to heal a noble lady of Jerusalem where 
the other two crosses had failed. Ascending from the 
crypt we merely glance at another chapel beneath whose 
altar is the low stone pillar on which sat our Lord while 
insulted, abused and crowned with thorns, and finallj' 
reach another chapel below the rock of Calvary so long 
and dark that nothing can be seen in it save by the light 
of the tapers in our hands. This is the Adam chapel 
containing two of what — admitting their genuineness — 
are three of the oldest graves the world can show, the 
tombs of Adam, Eve and Melchisedek. Hither, it is 
said, the first man's body was borne upon the waters of 
the flood and entombed anew. And here, at the Cruci- 
fixion, his skull rolled from its resting place to the foot 
of the cross where the blood, "which cleanseth from all 
sin," dripped upon it thus washing away the original sin 
of the race in the remains of its great progenitor. For- 
give the narration, reader — but when, after this, } T ou see 



1 90 Days in the East. 



the usual skull placed in pictures at the foot of the cross, 
you will know the idea from which it comes to be there. 

Through a grating at the extreme end of this chapel 
you may look, beyond a little lamp in whose dim rays 
sparkles a small crucifix of crystal, upon the fissure rent 
by the earthquake in the rock of Calvary. This is the 
same which you feel through the grated floor of the chap- 
el above, which is that of the EleYation of the Cross. To 
reach it, we lea Ye the chapel of Adam and ascend by a 
flight of steps at the top of which you see Calvary before 
you. or rather the signs of a Calvary which is itself in- 
visible. At the end of the chapel are three altars, in or- 
der to reach which you walk OYer the seYeral mosaics in 
the floor marking the precise points where Christ was 
stripped of his garments and where he was nailed to the 
cross. The chief of these altars, which belongs to the 
Greeks, is decorated richly but in execrable taste, with 
Yarious gold and silver lamps, relieYOS and candles. Be- 
neath it is a hole bound with a golden rim and placed ex- 
actly OYer the socket in the living rock below. Two 
round stones of a blackish hue stand equidistant from this 
at each end of the altar to mark the position of the cross- 
es of the malefactors. But the three holes are so near 
together that faith is again routed by an impossibility. 
It is. howeYer. a solemn spot because it may be the true 
Calvary, and it is such in the opinions of nine-tenths of 
those who visit it and some of whom — the poorest ones 
of earth coming oftenest and staying longest— bring to 
the foot of the cross the offering which God never despises 
of a "broken and contrite heart." What if this should 
be the spot whereon the cross of Jesus stood ! The sug- 
gestion of even such a possibility fills the breast with rev- 
erent awe. It shames the Christian man who stands there 
watching some poor, ignorant pilgrim crawling about up- 



Sacred Sites. 191 

on hands and knees, kissing th.e very stones of the floor 
and sprinkling them with human tears in the belief that all 
has been consecrated by the presence of His Lord, and 
who himself refuses to breathe in sympathy his more en- 
lightened prayers. For purposes of thought and holy mem- 
ories it may even be better to have a doubtful cross and 
a doubtful sepulchre ; and bolder men than I may deride 
the feeling by whose promptings an attempt has been made 
to certify these holy things to after ages, however little I 
may s}'mpathize with its manifestations in worship. The 
church of the Holy Sepulchre, with all its fables and im- 
probabilities, is still a wonderfully impressive place. If 
one could go there in some hour of silence and complete 
solitude, he might realize within its holy precincts an aid 
to reflection whose power must alwaj^s remain unknown 
to the casual sight-seer. And yet even then he would 
prefer to see before him, not the tawdry Greek altar on 
Calvary, not the marble chapel covering the garden tomb 
below, but the bare and living rock as void of ornament 
as the top of Moriah itself, preserved in its naked sim- 
plicity by the Moslems under the great dome of the mosque 
of Omar. 

For my own part, however, I found a deeper satisfaction 
in leaving this dark and sombre temple with its richly 
attired priests, its monkish processions, its crowds of dark 
and swarthy devotees, its Coptic children tuning lively 
chants, its flitting women veiled in white, its incessantly 
ringing bells, its various ceremonials mingling, by force 
of circumstances, the jealous and reluctant rites of East 
and West, and seeking that little tell, which has the shape 
of a skull, just outside of the Damascus gate, and which 
is probably the site of the true Calvary. Here, sitting up- 
on one of the broken Moslem tombstones, with no com- 
panion but a goatherd who kept his flock a few paces off, 



192 



Days in the East, 



the evening breeze fresh from the hills of Judah, seemed 
to whisper solemnly of that great Sacrifice once offered 
for the sins of the whole world. 

The subject of this chapter, dealing as it does with the 
accredited mementoes of the greatest mysteries of the 
Christian faith, impels me again for a moment to those 
grave and painful reflections to which I have already al- 
luded. The phases of her religions thought and practice 
are not the least of Jerusalem's humiliations. A religion 
like ours, so independent of places, cannot be disgraced, 
still less falsified by the revelations of the city of its birth ; 
but at the same time, we are smitten with shame and 
disappointment at their discovery. 

I think indeed that it may safely be said that Christi- 
anity nowhere appears at a greater disadvantage than in 
its head-centre. Jerusalem. To say nothing of a motley 
horde of Greeks, Armenians, Syrians, Copts and Latins 
among whom the armed guard of the Pasha sometimes 
finds it difficult to keep the peace, it seems beside as if 
every religious oddity who could get there, had pitched 
upon the Holy City as a rendezvous. The majority of 
those with whom the writer came into personal contact 
- were Americans and many of their various ideas were at 
once melancholy and amusing to hear. The most prom- 
inent community of this kind at present in Jerusalem 
is under the leadership of a gentleman who was formerly 
a prominent lawyer in Chicago. At that time, he and 
his family were devout Presbyterians. Belonging to his 
society are several Englishmen, one of them formerly a 
curate of the Established Church. Among its recent ac- 
cessions is. unfortunately, a youth who was one of the 
most promising young Jewish students in the English 
Church Mission. Its members are chiefly, however, 
from the United States. These people call themselves 



Sacred Sites. 



193 



by no name but, cutting loose from all church connections, 
they came, some three years ago, to Jerusalem under 
the guidance, as they claim, of special revelations. There 
the} r occup}' a large and comfortable house on the city 
wall, just inside of the Damascus gate. They are en- 
gaged in no active missionary work, but assert that their 
present duty is simply to stud}^ the Bible and wait for 
"great changes" and "great wonders" which the Lord 
will immediately work within the sight of all men and 
which may be best witnessed at Jerusalem. They pro- 
fess a far higher level of spirituality than other Christians 
in general have attained to, and have "come out," in obe- 
dience to Divine command, of their respective Christian 
bodies on the plea that "all churches are corrupt and in- 
efficient." They maintain certain great truths which they 
say "are not taught in the churches," but which are really 
professed and exemplified b}^ eve.ry Christian man. They 
have, each daj r , a simple service in the style of family 
worship. Their reason for allowing, as they have lately 
done, the celebration of the Lord's Supper to fall into 
desuetude among them was curiously explained to me 
by my former brother in the ministry. I reminded him 
of the binding perpetuity of the Sacrament, "till He 
come." "But He has come to us," was the reply. "By 
His own revelation He has told us that it is no longer 
necessary for us. On ordinary Christians the command 
may still be binding — but not on us with whom He deals 
more closely." This is the teaching of their "oracle." 
In case of illness prayer is always preferred, though not 
insisted on, to the exclusion of medical aid. Their prop- 
erty is common and it is reported that they are at present 
in financial straits. Friends at home, doubting their 
sanity, refuse pecuniary help. They themselves follow 
no occupation and therefore bring no money into the 



194 



Days in the East. 



treasury. Like the Thessalonians of old — the}' sit with 
folded, meditative hands thinking it no use to labor for 
£ 'the bread that perisheth," when the Lord may descend 
on Olivet to-morrow. They live plainly and take their 
turns in serving each other at table. Their marriage 
rings have been thrown away and, trying to anticipate 
heavenly relations upon earth, they abhor the thought of 
"marrying and giving in marriage." There being some 
thirty of them, young and old, living there together as 
one family, they are severely criticised by outsiders. 
That the}' are immoral, I do not believe ; that they are 
imprudent, is plain. But they do not "avoid all appear- 
ance of evil," lest they should seem to care for the opin- 
ions of men, which they claim to be above. Everything 
is done as before God alone. The wild stories that are 
afloat about them they consider persecution and proofs 
of the Lord's love for those He chastens. In the silent 
watches of the night 'tis He that bids them believe and 
do all that forms their rule of life, and unfriendly criti- 
cisms are but the scourges wherewith to train and disci- 
pline them. In short He is preparing them to "use" when 
He comes. 

I have detailed the above, because it is a conspicuous 
and striking illustration of the phases of religious belief 
in the Holy City. These are people of a high order of 
sensibilities and refinement and are known all over Jeru- 
salem. They are well educated, courteous and hospita- 
ble to every one without recompense — nay, they are man- 
ifestly in possession of an unusual share of personal ho- 
liness. These things my acquaintance with some of them, 
though by no means intimate, has made perfectly evident 
to me. How such people can follow out such ideas is 
one of the world's many mysteries and one of the religious 
problems of Jerusalem. 



Sacred Sites. 



195 



Some time ago, the above community had a revelation 
"concerning the coming of Titus." Who he was to be, 
they did not know ; but presently he came in the person 
of a young Texas cattle owner who had led a wild life 
on the plains, but had reformed. I spent several days 
with him under the same roof at Jaffa, and venture to 
mention him as my second illustration. It had been re- 
vealed to him that he should throw off his Methodist re- 
lations at home and come to Jerusalem ; why, he knew 
not, until he arrived and found the community of which 
he had not heard before. Then all was plain. The rev- 
elation in Texas and the vision at Jerusalem fitted one 
another exactly. His home was to be with the watchers 
on the wall. But alas, a new dream came the other day, 
reversing the former state of things and bidding him 
watch and wait in a house of his own which he has al- 
ready taken. He is to be a sort of forerunner, as he 
thinks. Everybody knows him for a quiet, earnest, gen- 
erous man, who ardently pours over his Bible from morn- 
ing until night. He is still addressed as "Titus" by his 
former friends. 

Not all such cases, however, may escape with mere 
mention. The last phase of faith made its appearance 
a short time before nry own departure in the shape of an 
American party which arrived by the Austrian steamer. 
It was the vanguard of a body of proposing colonists 
calling itself : "The Age to Come and New Jerusalem 
Pioneers." They were a sorry set for such a sounding 
title, being all uneducated artisans and, I am sorry to 
say, some of them profane and already at sword's point 
with one another. They arrived in nearly a destitute 
condition with a few household effects and tools. They 
were going to live near Jerusalem so as to help build the 
new walls, within which Christ will soon reign visibly 



196 



Days in the East. 



and with whom, in clue time they expect, in their own 
phrase, to ; ' shake hands/'' The auspices under which 
these and others like them go to Palestine are those of 
certain reprehensible sheets at home which persuade 
these deluded souls that, beside the future glory of the 
earthly kingdom, they may there find a "land flowing 
with milk and honey" and live with little labor and ex- 
pense. The resources of Palestine are magnified and 
misrepresented, and so these men and women set out 
from time to time with little, or no money, only to dis- 
grace their country people abroad and annoy the con- 
sul who is expected somehow to help them back again. 

I need hardly allow myself the space in which to speak 
of the youth who. a short time since, appeared in the 
Holy City as a second John the Baptist, or of that latest 
sensation which was noised abroad during my own so- 
journ in Jaffa and in which even some prominent Jews 
of that city and Jerusalem, professed to find the true 
Messiah — a young man. with the sacred Xame miraculous- 
ly written on his forehead. The case of three eccentric 
English women, as well as several others, also recur, as 
being to the point. But I pass them by. These sad 
and singular phenomena sometimes assume a pathetic as- 
pect. 2sot far from the tomb of good Bishop Gobat in 
the English cemeteiw, stands, at the head of a plain grave, 
a large and heavy wooden cross. Several years ago that 
same cross, wrapped with black crape, is said to have 
been carried through the street of Jerusalem in the hands 
of the harmless old man who now lies in front of it, and 
who preached about the city what he thought to be the 
gospel of Christ. 



TEMPLE AND MOSQUE. 



The second most interesting spot in Jerusalem, after the 
church of the Holy Sepulchre, is that whereon stands the 
Mosque of Omar. Here of old rose the magnificent tem- 
ple of Jehovah, filling and lightening the landscape with 
its more than regal splendor. But the history of Moriah 
begins much further back than the day when the temple 
was built and the ark transferred from Kirjath-jearim. In 
the early dawn of Scripture histoiy Abram came hither, 
in obedience to God's command to build an altar and sac- 
rifice his son. This broad spur of rock upon which the 
visitor to the mosque can hardly look but with reverent 
eyes was almost beyond doubt the floor whereon Araunah 
threshed his wheat and which David purchased for pur- 
poses of worship, after his interview with the destroying 
angel. And so from Abram' s time down to this day, on 
which our feet enter its sacred courts, has this hill been 
dedicated to the worship of the one true God. For three 
thousand years have the men of different creeds and dif- 
ferent nations, Jew, Mohammedan, and Christian here 
knelt in adoration and enjoj'ed spiritual privileges, main- 
tained at the point of the sword. 

The ancient Rabbis used to say that "the world is like 
an eye." They called "the white, the ocean, and the 
black portion, the earth ; Jerusalem, the pupil and their 
precious temple the image in the pupil." The fanciful 



198 Days in the East. 



simile shows their affection, an affection shared, as will 
be remembered, by the Apostles themselves, for the splen- 
did house of Jehovah — if it does nothing more. The en- 
closure, on some part of which rested this ej^nosure of 
Hebrew eyes, now covers about thirty-five acres. In or- 
der to make the ancient plateau of proper size, high walls 
were raised from the base of the original Moriah to a lev- 
el with its top, and then by filling up on the inside of 
these walls a much broader platform was the result. 
The corner wall of the area above which was the pinna- 
cle of the temple, the scene of part of our Lord's tempta- 
tion, has been ascertained to run down no less than a hun- 
dred and fifty feet into the debris of the valley of Jehosh- 
aphat. The massive substructions and huge stones which 
still meet the eye of the observer on and around this sa- 
cred hill give one some faint idea of the ancient grand- 
eur of the temple, but fail to settle, beyond dispute, the 
precise spot which it occupied. By some it has been 
placed on the site of the Mosque of Omar, by others at 
the southern end of the enclosure where now stands the 
Mosque of El Aksa. I shall not attempt to discuss the 
question, but the more inviting theory, at least to my- 
self, is that which admits of our regarding the same rock 
whereon rose the altars of Abram and David as that over 
which, in later ages, glowed the Shechinah of Jehovah 
and which was once hidden from profane scrutiny within 
the Holy of Holies itself. 

But somewhere before us, we are sure it stood ; and 
as I entered the gate with my companions a vision rose 
before my mind far different to that which was before my 
eyes. It was a picture of that massive pile of gold and 
marble, whose exact shape no man knows, but which far 
outshone the palaces of Zion, and furnished S. John with 
the brilliant imagery of the Revelation, flashing afar its 



Temple and Mosque. 



199 



splendor over the tribes of Israel encamped in festal or- 
der round about the sacred walls. Its spacious courts 
were thronged with a multitude smitten with silence and 
awe. Priests clothed in the fairest and most glorious 
vestments which God could order, and the inspired hand 
of the artificer contrive, stood reverently with the sanctu- 
ary. There was the sound of sweet antiphons and cho- 
ruses, the perfumes of fragrant incense, the flashing light 
from candlesticks of gold. The whole Jewish church al- 
ready venerable, ere it became the unwilling parent, alike 
of Christianity and Islamism, was keeping its grand and 
solemn passover in the immediate presence of Jehovah. 
The one divinely favored nation of the earth was worship- 
ing its God in peace and security and triumph. 

But the scene quickty changed. Siege and famine, fire 
and sword swept over the picture with a rapidity in which 
a thousand years became as a single day ; and when the 
lurid clouds had rolled awa} T , city and temple had alike 
gone down. The spear of the Assyrian and the torch of 
the Roman ; the Crusader's battle axe and the Moslem's 
shining blade had swept across the scene in tumultuous 
succession. Three towers of the old city yet stood be- 
side the Jaffa gate, but Mahomet now sat in Moses' seat. 
The Koran had displaced the Law and the Prophets. 
This sacred hill of Moriah which, since His first prom- 
ise made to Abram in that place, had so often echoed 
to Jehovah's voice, now saw its ensign in the gilded cres- 
cent of a great mosque and heard daily the solemn cry of 
the muezzin. The sons of Abraham and the subjects of 
David, instead of being, by divine protection, masters of 
these coveted acres, cursed by Christians for murdering 
a Lord, and by Moslems for crucifying a Prophet, even 
paying extortionate sums to their oppressors for the priv- 
ilege of pouring out their tears upon the very edge of 



200 Days in the East. 



those precincts within which it was now death for them to 
set their foot. This was the state of things which began 
some centuries ago and which still continues. 

We went to visit the Haram, as it is called, under the 
usual protection of a cavass for whose services we were 
obliged of course to pay liberally. It is only latel}~, how- 
ever, that foreigners have been able, except by stealth, 
to obtain admittance there under any consideration. The 
results of the war in the East, have altered the previous 
state of things and silenced the fanaticism which has now 
sheathed its daggers and mutters its curses under its 
breath. The Nubians and dervishes are still there, but 
even these hot-blooded guardians of the Haram own the 
potency of European arms and European gold. There 
were no clubs nor scimitars, nor showers of stones by 
which to enforce the former demand for "our religion, or 
our lives." We moved unmolested across the open court, 
and ascended the stoa, or stone-flagged platform on which 
stands the Mosque of Omar. All around us were Kiblehs 
and pavilions and wells for ablution ; nearly every spot, 
for the Moslem creed is not less facile than the Christian, 
being associated with its own legend, which might, or 
more probably might not, be true. There Solomon was 
found dead. This was where stood the altar of the Jew- 
ish holocausts, and between it and the temple, was stoned 
to death. Zacharias, son of Barachias. That graceful 
little structure was the "dome of the chain" of Justice 
where David held his great tribunal and where the bal- 
ance will hang on the Judgment Day. From a point 
near it, James the Less was hurled headlong into the 
valle}' below. Yonder, on the end of that recumbent pil- 
lar which points like a cannon out of the wall across 
Jehoshaphat, would Mahomet sit in the Judgment Da} T 
while Christ sat opposite upon Olivet, the bridge of 



Temple and Mosque. 



20I 



Al Sirat, stretching like an invisible thread between them. 
And so on, to the end of the catalogue. At one of the 
portals of the mosque we now took off our shoes and put- 
ting slippers of red and yellow upon our feet, shuffled 
across the threshold into the dark, but rich interior. The 
large and handsome octagon, surmounted by its spacious 
dome, presented a wealth of gilding, mosaics, stained 
windows and illuminated texts in brilliant colors, but 
with the usual green predominating. Marbles and 
columns finely carved and sculptured, heightened the im- 
pressiveness, while directly beneath the dome and occu- 
pying the centre of the octagon, lay the great Sakrah, 
or rock, free from candles and gilding and tawdry finery, 
but enclosed within ample railings. This is only the 
highest point of Moriah which is here left cropping out ; 
but it is one of the most conspicuous treasures of modern 
Jerusalem. When one stands before it — and, if he can 
silence his garrulous guide, gets a moment to reflect — it 
is an almost overwhelming recollection that the pilgrim's 
feet may be standing upon the \ery place wherein Israel's 
high priest himself could come but once a year and that 
here rested the Ark of the Covenant, here shone the per- 
petual symbols of God's mercy and benediction, here was 
writ the never spoken Name. Naj T , if this be indeed the 
precise spot of the temple, it has seen greater things 
than these ; it has seen the Lord of Life Himself who 
came suddenly hither, when no man was expecting. 
Here, in His infancy, He was presented to His Heavenly 
Father amid Simeon's notes of praise. Here, in His 
youth, He questioned the doctors of the Jewish law. 
Here, in the vigour of early manhood, He drove the buy- 
ers and sellers from the sacred courts. Here was the 
porch in which He loved to walk. Hence was the wom- 
an guilty of adultery sent away to sin no more. Here 



202 



Days in the East. 



were the feeble alms of the poor woman praised. And 
here was the destruction of the beautiful temple itself 
foretold. But memories like these crowd thickly upon 
us. If we had but time and permission to think upon 
them ! But such a thing is too absurd to be understood 
by friends, dragoman, or cavass and away we are hurried 
to see things which can be exhibited, as mere memories 
can not. with many a flourish and salaam. 

We walked slowly around the rock, and on the other 
side we found the imprint, as if of a giant's fingers, lying 
deep in the stone. I laid my own upon it, but they failed 
to fill a quarter of it. It was no grip of a giant, however, 
which had left it there, but only the hand of the Archan- 
gel Gabriel and his excuse for doing so was this : Ma- 
homet was about to ascend into heaven from this rock, 
on which you may still see in another place the mark of 
his foot, when the rock awoke and started after him. 
But Gabriel was on the watch and, fortunately for those 
who still revere the Sakrah. grasped it with an iron hand 
and retained it in its place. 

Beneath a projection of this rock, called its "tongue" — 
because, as legend says, it once spake to Omar — we 
descended into a subterranean cave or chamber. The 
floor had the hollow sound which betokened a cavern un- 
derneath, and this is said to be the well in which are con- 
fined deceased Moslem souls. It is a shaft which, by 
reason of its underground communication, is supposed to 
have been the ancient cess-pool, or drain into which were 
poured the blood and ashes from the altar on the rock 
above. It was once uncovered, but a Moslem mother, 
one day holding converse at its edge with the spirit 
of her deceased son, threw herself in and disappeared, 
since which time it has been closed up to prevent the 
recurrence of a like catastrophe. In this sacred chamber 



Temple and Mosque. 203 



every prayer made to Allah is said to be freely granted 
and here are pointed out the respective niches wherein 
Abraham, David, Solomon, Elijah, S. George and Ma- 
homet all kneeled at their devotions. In the ceiling is 
the accidental mark of the Moslem prophet's head, left in 
the rock as if it had been clay, when his winged steed, 
El-Burak bore him too hastity upward. Much edified 
with these wonders of which the half had not before been 
told us, we reascended into the mosque in another part 
of which, as we retired, our attention was called to a 
small slab of verd-antique into which nineteen nails had 
once been fixed to mark the centuries of the duration of 
the world. When all were drawn the world should cease 
to be. The devil got at them one day while the angel 
was away and before he was discovered and routed, drew 
out all but three and a half which leaves the race but a 
residue of three hundred and fift} T 3-ears of time. On 
this stone a few paras laid in faith would, we were told, 
ensure our safe passage to Heaven. In such a hope, 
held out b} T a Moslem to "Christian dogs," the thing was 
too manifestly overdone. But nevertheless, in the spirit 
of a liberal charity, we left enough to pa}' the fare to 
Paradise of at least three Mohammedans. 



EL AKSA. 



Leaving the Mosque of Omar, we bent our steps toward 
the southern end of the area in order to visit the Mosque 
of El Aksa. On the way thither we stopped at that hand- 
some round basin of stone which is supposed to occupy 
the former position of the brazen sea of the Levites. This 
is still supplied with water from Solomon's pools and 
although the Arabs encircled the spacious rim, filling their 
black goat-skins with water, I ventured to take a long, 
deep draught which I found very cool and refreshing. 
On arriving at El Aksa, we first went down to examine 
the galleries beneath the mosque with their vaulted 
roofs and massive pillars scarred with age. We then 
reascended into the upper portion of the edifice which 
was once a church built by Justinian in honor of S. Mary 
the Virgin. The interior is very impressive with its sev- 
en dark and solemn naves. Like the Mosque of Omar, 
El Aksa has its own stock of curiosities. The chief of 
these is perhaps what is called "the Well of the Leaf." 
Into this a follower of the prophet once let fall his bucket 
and going down to seek for it, found a door which opened 
into Paradise. He entered it and walked about a while 
in the delightful gardens and then re-issued with a leaf 
which he had plucked and placed behind his ear as a 
proof of his tale of discovery. Hence the name of "the 
fountain of the leaf in which, as Hodder observes, "truth 



El Aksa. 



205 



lies at the bottom of a well." At Jaffa I heard another 
legend of this well — to the effect that Mahomet pre- 
tended to receive the Koran from its depths. Taking 
two books exactty alike, save that one had the text and 
the other had not, he surreptitiously sent a young slave 
into the well with the written pages, and then exhorting 
the people to lower the blank pages into the well for the 
purpose of receiving thereon the divine inscriptions, the 
volumes were exchanged by the slave according to in- 
structions. The people got their Koran and, as "dead 
men tell no tales," Mahomet ordered the sacred source 
of the holy writings to be immediately filled up with stones 
and the fraud was complete. 

There are also here the reputed graves of Nadab, Abi- 
hu, Eleazer and Ithamar which, more probably, are those 
of Becket's four murderers. Here, too, is preserved the 
footmark of infantile size which is said to have been re- 
moved hither from the Church of the Ascension on Olivet. 
Near it is a splendid Mohammedan pulpit beautifully in- 
laid and carved in wood. A little farther on are the 
two pillars of which every one has heard, which stand 
quite close together and between which if a man could 
squeeze, he would be sure to go to Heaven. If not, he 
was sure to fail of everlasting bliss. The passage is now 
impeded by an iron guard and the lean man can no lon- 
ger exult here over the eternal misfortune of his obese 
brother. Then there are the mihrabs, or praying places 
of Zacharias, and his son, John Baptist and Omar. Our 
time and attention were thus divided between things like 
these and one or two 3 f oung Arabs who, contrary to reg- 
ulations, were tempting us to purchase the bits of color- 
ed glass and stones which they had pilfered from among 
the decayed mosaics of the mosques. 

We afterwards went down into a sort of crypt in which 



206 



Days in the East. 



we found what looked like a stone sarcophagus, or water 
basin, but which we were requested to venerate as the 
genuine cradle of Christ ; used while He and His mother 
Mary were living here with Simeon, the priest, in his 
apartments adjoining the temple. Going down still far- 
ther, we at last reached "Solomon's stables," as the}' are 
called, a series of vaulted aisles and pillars in the latter 
of which are discovered traces of the rings to which the 
horses were tied. These remains had recently been ex- 
cavated, but the uncertainty which attaches to their real 
nature and purpose serves here, as elsewhere, to decrease 
the interest which would otherwise be felt in them even 
by the ordinary stranger. 

As we walked afterward along the esplanade, we came 
to the walled up "golden gate" which on the inside has 
the shape of a little mosque, or chapel. This is the gate 
through which Christ made His triumphal entry into Jeru- 
salem, as well as that which was the "beautiful gate" 
of the temple, where Peter and John healed the blind 
man. It has long been closed in consequence of a tra- 
dition which declares that, on some Friday, an armed 
Christian conqueror will ride in and take possession of 
the city. 

Before retiring from the area we paused again and 
looked around. The courts were full of life and interest. 
Here and there walked devotees on their way to prayers — 
hither and thither went the water carriers, bending be- 
neath their well-filled sacks of skin, while white-veiled 
women and children filled in the scene. But there was 
little noise and confusion. Reverence and decency pre- 
sided over the spot. The pulpit of Omar, into which I 
had myself been permitted to ascend, stood out in the 
open court ; but no urchins dared to play upon its steps. 
The cypresses and olives stood around in their quiet 



El Aksa. 



207 



beauty and no one ventured to break their branches. 
The pebbles of the area lay undisturbed, since they could 
be hurled at no Christian intruder. The Dervish knelt 
at his prayers in the sight of all who entered in at the 
gates, but no one stopped to stare at him ; unless he had 
unconsciously dropped upon his knees close beside the 
line of march of some party of tourists whose principles 
forbade them to pass him without a look either of reproof, 
or ridicule. The blind hatred of the Moslem could be 
roused there in all its force in a single moment, but the 
apparent atmosphere of the place, unlike that of the Holy 
Sepulchre, was one of decency, solemnity and mutual 
love. 

What holy ground it was ! The holiest in the world 
of which we knew, unless we prefer to bestow that at- 
tribute of regard upon the doubtful site of the Sepulchre, 
and Ferguson, though by a theory hardly supported by 
any one else, puts even the Sepulchre itself on Mount Mo- 
riah, making it that cave of which I have already spoken 
beneath Es-Sdkrah. Were such a preposition true, the 
paramount sanctity of this broad hill-top would be 
beyond dispute. When the temple stood here, its 
golden plates glittering in the same sun which now flashes 
from enameled tiles, the Jews, minded like the Moslems, 
would permit no stranger to enter its . courts and even to 
this day they would not, even if they could, go within the 
sacred enclosure lest in ignorance they might perchance 
set foot on the holiest places and thus incur the guilt of 
sacrilege. When Alexander met, on Scopus, the high- 
priest Jaddaeus, robed and mitred, he followed the min- 
ister of Jehovah to this sacred spot in order to adore in 
His own courts the Deity whose name burned in glowing 
letters on the forehead of the priest. From this hill the 
jobber Heliodorus was driven amid the wrath of Heaven 



208 



Days in the East. 



and struck senseless while attempting his nefarious pro- 
ject. It was protected from Antiochus and Pompey. It 
was cleansed and restored by Judas Maccabaeus. And 
even the soldier, who at last flung the burning torch into 
its sacred fane, did so in direct opposition to the orders 
of his Roman master. The Apostate Julian tried to re- 
build the temple here, but his captious and rebellious 
spirit still found a Divine guardianship to thwart and ex- 
pel him. AY here is the other spot in the wide world which 
God and man have so long thus consented to honor? It 
is a place which should be as free as air to the devout 
man from every quarter of the earth. It is a glorious 
site for some new church which, in the providence of God, 
may here arise in after ages when the worship of the 
false prophet shall have been swept forever from Ziorf s 
sacred mount. But who would care to see it, unless it 
should differ from the Church of the Sepulchre, even as 
light from darkness, being what that is not. a symbol 
and a centre of a truly Catholic and Apostolic faith, void 
of error in doctrine and immorality in life? 



OUTSIDE THE WALLS. 



The pleasantest walks of the sojourn in Jerusalem are 
round about the city, rather than within its streets. The 
air is better, the view w T ider, the sacred localities less 
disputed and the mind free in its attempt to meditate 
and enjoy associations. I have already taken my read- 
ers from the Mount of Olives on a hurried journey to 
the Jaffa Gate, by way of the Valleys of Jehoshaphat 
and Hinnom. But, as that gate was my starting point 
for nearly every excursion in the vicinity of Jerusalem, 
I shall venture once more to turn to the right and go 
through Gehenna to the south and east, both for the 
sake of convenience and for the purpose of adding a few 
remarks concerning the things already mentioned. 

In making the outside circuit of the Holy City you 
may either take the road already alluded to, or, keeping 
on the high ground above the valley, you may proceed 
by the bridle-path whose sometimes slippery deviations 
lead you amid heaps of rubbish close under the walls. 
Now, I tried one of these routes and then, the other; 
the view being varied only as to its point of prospect in 
either case. The first thing of importance observed as 
you depart from the Jaffa Gate, is the last which we 
mentioned on our arrival at Jerusalem, the vale of Hin- 
nom, or Gehenna — containing, a little wa}- down, the low- 
er pool of Gihon. At its lower end, Father Paulinus, 



2 IO 



Days in the East. 



T. and I one day, crossing, descended into it and climbed 
high up on the other side to visit the place where, it is 
said, the frightened followers of the captive Lord took 
refuge just before the Crucifixion. It proved to be only 
a very large cavern among many smaller tombs and caves 
which line the faces of the cliffs about Jerusalem, as they 
do every eligible wall of rock throughout the Holy Land. 
Hewn in the stony threshold, was a rude and simple cav- 
ity with its huge, egg-like pestle of stone which had been 
used as an olive-press and was even then greasy with the 
recently flowing oil. In, or near this cavern, through the 
chinks of whose closed door we peered in vain, are said 
to lie the remains of the High Priest Annas, while much 
farther over, on the other side of the hill, is the tree 
pointed out as that on which the traitor Apostle hanged 
himself. Just beyond it is the Field of Blood, a part of 
it covered with the remnant of an old stone structure of 
whose original purpose I still remain ignorant. It is a 
lonely spot, set high up on the side of the sombre valley, 
but commanding no view of the city save a little of that 
part of the wall above which stood the temple. It is sad 
and cold and desolate, as such a place deserves to be — 
the purchase of the blood-money paid for a Saviour's life. 
The earth from this spot is said by some to have the mer- 
it of an antiseptic ; by others that of a putrefactive ; and 
for the sake of one or the other of these virtues, it has in 
past ages been sent by shiploads to Eome and Pisa. 

Leaving on our left Mount Zion, a part of which is, in 
accordance with Jeremiah's prophec}^, ' 'ploughed like a 
held," and having on our right the hill of Evil Council 
where Pompey pitched his camp against the Jews and 
Caiaphas afterward gave advice against the captive Christ, 
we descend into the valley of the Kedron and bend our 
steps toward Beer-Eyuh, that is, the well of Job, or the 



Outside the Walls. 



211 



Fountain of En-Rogel. There is a little doorway in the 
structure which covers the mouth of the pit and through 
this you may walk, if you are careless, into a watery grave 
from which rescue is impossible. I stepped over the 
threshold and dropped pebble after pebble into its far- 
sounding depths, fascinating us and yet curdling the blood 
with the deep and distant thud with which they struck the 
dark water far below. It is one of the peculiarities of 
the Turkish rule that public roads are seldom, or never 
mended, nor the mouths of the many empty pits and cis- 
terns throughout the country covered. All over the vi- 
cinity of Jerusalem, as well as in the country at large, 
these dangerous places are to be found with their mouths 
on a level with the ground and perhaps hidden partly by 
the grass which overhangs their edges. From many of 
them a man could not possibly extricate himself alone and 
in a county where the inhabitants live altogether in towns 
and villages, he might for days and nights cry in vain 
for help. We drew back from the dismal En-Rogel and 
fell at once into the hands of a dozen lepers who, in a 
semi-circle had squatted outside upon the ground, and 
were patiently waiting till we should complete our exper- 
iments. They have a sort of hospital near by in which 
they live together, and whence they venture out to clam- 
our, or rather to whimper, in their hoarse and pitiful tones, 
for the compassion of the stranger. It is a matter of com- 
ment, how all around Jerusalem to-day one finds the same 
human sufferings which were once healed by the mercies 
of Christ. The blind, the deaf, the dumb, the lame, the 
leper — all are still there, even as they were eighteen hun- 
dred years ago. There is but one difference in the case 
of the lepers. Then the} r were all Jews. Now I am 
told they are all Mohammedans. They intermarry and 
thus propogate the disease which would otherwise die out, 



2 12 



Days in the East. 



although it is said under certain circumstances to be con- 
tagious. These poor creatures surrounded us and even 
laid their horribly ulcered hands upon us in their impor- 
tunate beseechings. It was impossible not to pity them 
thus dying by inches, but it often seemed to me as I met 
them here and elsewhere, that the one strong craving for 
backsheesh seemed to drown all anxiety over their bodily 
condition, an impression which adds at once to the trav- 
eler's satisfaction and their own temporary happiness in 
bestowing his piasters. 

Somewhere in the neighborhood of En-Rogel it may 
have been that Jonathan and Achimaaz heard the news 
which guided David in his movements during Absalom's 
rebellion. Here, too, it was that Adonijah, attempting to 
forestall Solomon in his regal dignity, prepared the ban- 
quet for his friends. Near by, we stepped into the dry bed 
of the Kedron to gather a flinty pebble or two as a souvenir 
of this singular stream, whose course, beneath Jerusalem, 
lies a part of the way under ground. Turning hence 
into the valley of Jehoshaphat, we pass the fragment of 
the stone stair-case which once ascended Zion's hill and 
the place near the famous pool already spoken of, where 
the tower of Siloe fell, and find ourselves again opposite 
that nest of troglodytes, the cliff village of Silwan. The 
slope to which it clings is the Mount of Scandal, or Of- 
fense, whereon Solomon made homes and temples for his 
heathen wives. From here, away beyond the Garden of 
Gethsemane, the slopes of the valley are completely stud- 
ded over with dark grey tombs. On one side — next the 
city, lie the Moslems ; on the other, at the foot of Olivet, 
repose the Jews. Most of the Jews at Jerusalem are, 
indeed, old men and women who have come here from 
all parts of the world to die and be buried in the valley 
of Jehoshaphat, the place in which many, straining in- 



Outside the Walls. 213 



terpretation, have centralized the last Judgment. But 
certainly few other spots in the world will show, at the 
last day, a greater array of the sheeted dead. It was 
styled of old, the "king's dale," in which was erected the 
pillar of Absalom and in the time of the kings was made 
famous by the destruction of idols at the hands of Asa, 
himself the son of an idolatress, and the good Josias. 
Across the valley and up the steep ascent of the Mount 
of Olives, King David fled from his rebel son, and a 
greater than David afterward traversed its tomb-paved 
slopes, as He sought the solitude of His favorite retreat. 
Let us mount again for an hour the triple hill whose foot 
we have ourselves reached and sitting down, as I have 
often done beneath the shade of an olive tree, recall a 
little more of its history than we have hitherto been able 
to do. 



THE CIRCUIT COMPLETED. 



Several of my pleasantest visits to this sacred mount 
were made in the company of Mr. Gifford, an American 
artist whom I had the pleasure of first meeting at Jerusa- 
lem, and who became my companion during the entire 
remainder of my stay in Palestine. With him I sat on 
Olivet and in Gethsemane, writing and reading, while he 
sketched delightful bits of Jerusalem through the olive- 
trees. At such times I tasted at will of the pleasures of 
reverie — that fitful siren which ever dances just before, 
but always out of reach, along the hurried path of the 
tourist. We sought some spot free from intruders, where 
we speedily extemporized our seats. The panorama thus 
commanded was always changing, but it never lacked in 
interest and beauty. Now it was on the summit, per- 
haps, toward even-tide, and then we could turn from the 
great wilderness of Judaea pregnant with the memories 
of the tempted Christ and His ascetic herald, John the 
Baptist, to the rich colorings of the mountains of Moab 
and the glittering bosom of the Dead Sea. The plain of 
Jericho was also visible in that marvelous atmosphere 
and the course of the Jordan 

"By its verdure far descried." 

Again we stopped somewhere on the slope nearer Jeru- 
salem and never tired of the incomparable view which is 



The Circuit Completed. 



215 



thence afforded of the Hoty City. And often too we 
laid aside our book and palette and struck out on foot 
over the precipitous sides, traversing some old road 
paved with small stones and covered with pieces of pot- 
tery and flint, or venturing cautiously among unsealed 
mouths of sundry treacherous cisterns. 

And what a hill it is, standing now, as it has always 
done, u before Jerusalem on the east" ! As Jerusalem is 
the world's famous city ; as Jordan is the one river of 
which everyone has heard ; so is there no other hill which 
can eclipse the fame of the Mount of Olives. The sphinx, 
gazing out with tranquil mien over the sands of Egypt, 
has watched the inscription of pages of history far more 
numerous, indeed, but less important to man than those 
which have been written within full view of Olivet. From 
the time when the advent of the new moon was first tele- 
graphed by torch-light signals from Moab, and announced 
on the top of this holy hill, to the day when Peter, the 
Hermit, stirred men's hearts and crusaders sang their lit- 
anies upon its summit, what a record can it unroll to 
view ! It has seen the glory of Jehovah, as in the vision 
of Ezekiel, illuminating its brow. It has heard the sobs 
of a David, bewailing his rebellious son and a Jesus weep- 
ing over a doomed city. It has seen the God-man seek 
its bosom for solitar} T prayer during the midnight watches. 
It has echoed to the tramp of the flower of the Roman 
army and sheltered on its sides the white tents of the 
tenth legion of Titus. But its secrets are too many to 
be searched out and told in a few strokes of the pen. 
And the} r are not all of the past. The future has its own 
mysteries in store. For when the Lord shall come again 
to earth this hill shall undergo a mighty change. "For 
His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, 
which is before Jerusalem on the east, and the Mount of 



2 l6 



Days in the East, 



Olives shall cleave in the midst thereof toward the east 
and toward the west and there shall be a very great val- 
ley and half of the mountain shall remove toward the 
north and half of it toward the south." 

On the plain of Sharon you may search in vain for its 
own peculiar rose, among other flowers of many a hue 
and shape ; around Bethany, the ancient u house of dates," 
you may find fig and pomegranate and almond, while no 
fruit-bearing palm greets the e}*e ; but Olivet still retains 
its olive-trees. There is many a gnarled and twisted 
trunk which looks as if it might have upborne its mass of 
silvery grey foliage through the storms of many genera- 
tions and eight of the most venerable of these stand with- 
in the enclosure called the garden of Gethsemane. By 
the monks they are shown as the identical olive-trees 
beneath which our Saviour was made captive on the night 
before the Crucifixion. If Titus, however, as Josephus 
states, cut down all the trees in the vicinity of Jerusalem, 
these can be nothing more than shoots from the parent 
roots of that distant time. At all events, they are very 
old and are the chief features of this confined little area 
with its high yellow walls and pretty French flower-beds. 
The ground may possibly be a part though it is too small 
to be all of the ancient garden, and this possibility gives 
it interest in the eyes of the stranger. I loved to sit there 
in the cool morning air and watch the good-natured friar 
in charge looking after his flowers ; or the humble pilgrim 
doing ;i the stations"- from picture to picture along the in- 
side wall. It was a place of rest and quiet and refresh- 
ment. Just outside its gate are the traditional rocks 
upon which Peter, James and John fell asleep when the 
Master commanded them to wait, while He went further 
into the garden to beseech the removal from Him of the 
chalice of His Passion. At the end of the passage I 



The Circuit Completed. 



217 



scanned curiously the fragment of a pillar, blackened and 
scarred, 4 'looking," in short, as my friend said, u as if 
cursed" — which is held to mark the spot where our Lord 
received the traitorous kiss of Judas. 

From here it is but a step across the road into the 
church of the Virgin's tomb and the grotto of the Agony. 
The latter, into which we will venture for a moment only, 
is a roomy subterranean grotto, wherein are erected three 
altars, under charge of the Latin fathers. The chief al- 
tar stands, of course, on the exact spot where our Lord 
perspired blood. Leaving the grotto and threading our 
way among the numerous beggars who sit around with 
their sightless eyes and tin buckets, we arrive after a few 
steps at the head of the long staircase which conducts us 
down to the tomb of the Blessed Virgin Mar}\ On the 
occasion of my first visit thither we found the Armenian 
monks chanting mass before the altar in the subterranean 
church, and going quietly down, we arranged ourselves 
on chairs and benches about the mouth of an old well 
with its quaint buckets, a few steps in the rear of the priests. 
Here we sat for a long time, watching the red-gowned 
servers swinging their censers and listening to the inces- 
sant droning of the priests. Occasionally our attention 
was beguiled by the little birds which flew timidly in and 
out of the broad doorway at the top of the stairs. It is 
said that the church was once roofless, but that the rain 
never dared to descend upon it. Half way down the 
staircase, in a side chapel on the right, is the tomb of S. 
Anne and opposite this, in a similar chapel on the left, 
repose the remains of S. Joseph. The Virgin's empty 
sepulchre is behind the altar at which the service was 
proceeding and when this was at length over, we all 
squeezed into the little apartment and satisfied our cu- 
riosity. I remember nothing, however, that was worth 



2 1 8 Days in the East. 



recording and we tarried but a moment within the Mau- 
soleum. 

From here we turn to the west and cross the Kedron 
by a bridge immediately in front of us and having on our 
right the 4 4 Ashes Valley" where was gathered the sheaf 
of first fruits offered at the Passover. The road leads up 
to S. Stephen's gate just within which is the so-called 
pool of Bethesda — north of the temple area — and to the 
right of which, outside the walls, is another large reser- 
voir called the 4 'Pool of Madam Mary." In the wall in 
this neighborhood are set some large stones with beveled 
edges, w T hose masonry suggests an origin as early as the 
time of Solomon. Up to this gate of S. Stephen, how- 
ever, we shall not now ascend, but turning to the right 
at the point where some reddish flat rocks are still said 
to bear the stains of the rnartyred Deacon's blood, we 
shall continue our course north-westward around the walls. 
The prominent object now before is Mount Scopus, a 
name well known to history. Gifford and I took don- 
keys one afternoon and rode to the tumulus on the top, 
whereon Titus is said to have stood and overlooked the 
Holy City — of which the view from this point is only less 
enchanting than from Olivet. Here the Roman trumpets 
once rang out their challenge to the beleaguered city, 
whose obstinate defenders were not slow to answer while 
the echoes rolled from hill- top to hill-top and died away 
across the plain of Jordan and the Dead Sea. But the 
Romans were not the only foes of Jerusalem whose bat- 
talions marched over this famous hill. The Babylonian, 
the Assyrian, the Persian, the Greek had been there be- 
fore ; the crusader and the Saracen came afterward. 
Some came to worship, some to blaspheme and destroy, 
but all alike to sweep down from Scopus in fire and blood 
upon the fated city. It was by this route also that S. 



The Circuit Completed. 



219 



Paul was hurried off to Caesarea with his two hundred 
guards, barely escaping the murderous fury of the Jews. 
Looking away from Jerusalem, we could see "poor Ana- 
thoth," the birthplace of Jeremiah and whose fate, as she 
lay in the path of the Assyrian, Isaiah touchingly bewails — 
and all that bare, brown desolate wilderness of hills 
which divides the plain of Jordan from Jerusalem. 

Pursuing our w r ay among the Moslem tombstones and 
turning westward we pass the walled up gate of Herod, 
now denominated the "gate of flowers" and reach the lit- 
tle skull-shape mound which has with good reason been 
supposed to be the true Calvary. Near it is a huge deep 
cave where Jeremiah is said to have composed his lamen- 
tations, but into which it being under control of the Arabs, 
we never found it convenient to enter. Nearly opposite to 
this, just north of the Damascus gate and beneath the 
house on the wall of the American community, is the low 
dark hole through which we crawled into the famous "quar- 
ries of Solomon." This is a huge underground passage — 
one of the wonders of Jerusalem— and is thought to reach 
as far as the temple area a mile away. From it the stone 
for Solomon's temple was probably taken. We explored 
a part of it by candle-light, going cautiously far into its 
Cimmerian depths. We found man}^ upright blocks of 
stone partially hewn, but still projecting from the walls. 
Here and there a spring trickled from the rocks. There 
were enormous heaps of rubbish to scale and frightful 
precipices to avoid, while the roof of the cavern was, in 
some places far distant from its mouth, as much as fifty 
feet above our heads. The ceiling is blackened over in 
many places by the candles of the inevitable unknown 
who have left their names in soot upon its overhanging 
surface. It is a strange place, a place in which one might 
easily get lost and die in a darkness like that of Egypt, 



220 



Days in the East. 



a place wherein a whole army might hide, or a population 
take refuge. Ibrahim who, as a boy, attended Dr. Wil- 
son in his explorations, gave us an account of the process 
by which this cavern was discovered and told how the} T 
first entered the labyrinth, like Theseus at Crete, with a 
thread as a clew to daylight and the open air. 

On the road which leads northward from the Damascus 
gate, we ma} T visit the so-called 4 'tombs of the kings," a 
good specimen of the more important rock-tombs b} T 
which Jerusalem is surrounded. We went down a broad 
flight of steps, drained by narrow water courses sunk in. 
the rock, past a large cistern or two at the bottom and 
turned into a spacious vestibule cut in the solid rock at 
one side of which was a wide recess with sculptured port- 
al. On the frieze I noticed some admirably executed 
carvings of cakes and grapes. At the left end of this 
recess we found an entrance leading into a sepulchral 
chamber with several apartments and numerous coffin- 
niches in the walls. But the manner of closing the port- 
al at once attracted my attention, for the door was like 
a huge round millstone which, rolling downward in a 
groove along the perpendicular rock, effectually shut the 
sepulchre against all intruders. At present it is rolled 
permanently back. But one sees at a glance how it works 
and gets a new idea of the manner in which the angel 
uncovered our Lord's own tomb, at the Resurrection. 

Pursuing our road still northward, we pass, at ten min- 
utes' walk from the city gates, an enormous hill of ashes 
which some have supposed to be the ashes from the tem- 
ple sacrifices — but of which Brother Lievin rather scorn- 
fully disposes as the refuse of some soap factory — and 
reach at a short distance beyond, the Tomb of the Judges. 
This is even a better specimen, in some respects, than 
the tombs of the kings, though not so large. It has the 



The Circuit Completed. 221 



usual sculptured portal and numerous burial niches with- 
in. Why it is called the Tomb of the Judges no one 
seems to know. 

From this point it is but a short ride to the hotel Feil, 
and the completion of our rapid circuit outside the walls ; 
but before going in we made one afternoon a detour of 
some twenty minutes to the west and suddenly came 
upon the brow of a hill whence we could look down upon 
the large and fortress-like Convent of the Cross. It is 
in the hands of the Greeks and is said to cover the spot 
where grew the tree from which the cross was made. But 
we were content with merely looking down upon it — for 
though the tree may possibly have grown there, it ought 
either to share the honor of a visit with three other spots 
where grew three other trees, or else it destroys altogeth- 
er the old legend which tells us that four different kinds 
of wood entered into the composition of the cross — the 
socket being of cedar ; the post, of cypress ; the tablet, 
of olive ; and the cross-beam of palm. 



THE CRADLE OF THE FOUNDER. 



My second visit to Bethlehem, unlike the first, was 
made, and made leisurely, with but a single companion. 
It is a great misfortune when one can see such places but 
once and then only in a party under the care of a drago- 
man. However intelligent your leader and his little troop 
of tourists, you must still forego much of the hoped-for 
profit and reflection. It was just ten days after my first 
hurried visit that we again set out, one pleasant morning, 
on the Bethlehem road across the hills. The hill-country 
of Judaea through which our route lay. is both lovely and 
historically interesting. It was not long before we were 
in the valley of Rephaim where David twice conquered 
the Philistines. Lying not far from Jerusalem, it has no 
doubt been the theatre of many another scene of blood. 
And here we enter upon a road teeming with legends and 
traditions. 

First comes 4, the well of the star'' by the wayside, 
where it is said that the Magi, having lost sight of 
Christ's natal star as they entered Jerusalem, found it 
again by its reflection in the water as they were on the 
road to Bethlehem. A little beyond this, on the opposite 
side of the path, we see in a rock almost on a level with 
the ground, a deep impression said to be that of the body 
of Elijah who fell asleep here, so goes the story, as he 
fled from the vengeance of Jezebel. Then eomes "the 



The Cradle of the Founder. 



223 



field of dry peas" whose legend is that our Lord passing 
by them, saw a man sowing peas and asked what he was 
sowing. The scoffing answer was : "stones !" "Well," 
said Jesus, "you shall gather stones." Such was indeed 
the crop and even to-day pebbles are found there in the 
form of peas. For ourselves, however, we rode into the 
field and sought them all in vain. 

But the tomb of Rachel which we next reached, lying 
in sight of the lovely village of Beth-zala on the hill-side, 
is no such fiction. Around it gather some of the richest 
and most pathetic associations of patriarchal history. 
Here the wife of Jacob is buried "in the waj T to Ephrath 
which is Bethlehem." Hither the Jews come to weep 
and wail as at Jerusalem ; and when I dismounted and 
entered the domed building which now covers the tomb, 
my e} r es rested upon a truly touching scene. Here were 
again those aged men and women, moaning and sobbing 
as if from broken hearts, and bathing in their tears the 
well thumbed Hebrew Psalters which the} 7 carried in their 
hands. Their patriarchs and temples all gone — their 
national glory wholly departed — who would not pity 
them ! It was with a sad and sympathetic heart that I 
remounted and rode on ; albeit pursuing my way to the 
birth-place of a Saviour Whom these very Jews revile 
and despise. 

We turned aside to see the well at the gate of Bethle- 
hem, whence the three valiant soldiers brought water to 
David in the cave of Adullam, and then advanced, through 
narrow and winding streets, to the Church of the Nativ- 
ity standing over the cave in which Christ was born. It 
is called the oldest Christian church in the world, having 
been built by S. Helena, mother of Constantine, early 
in the fourth century. I looked up with much interest 
at the old ceiling made of beams of wood from the forest 



224 



Days in the East. 



of Lebanon aruonsr which the little birds were flitting 
and singing as in the trees outside. Only a few rem- 
nants of the ancient mosaics still cling to the walls, but 
I thought of its glory when, on Christmas-day, 1101, 
Baldwin was here anointed and crowned King of Je- 
rusalem. 

In my former visit I had been shown the points of spe- 
cial interest under the guidance of a Latin priest and I 
had now but to review them. My companion and I de- 
scended by a flight of sixteen steps into the Holy Grotto 
where, under an open altar hung round with ever-burning 
lamps of gold and silver, we found a slab of white marble 
having an aperture in the centre surrounded by a silver 
star. Around this star is the inscription : HIC, DE VIR- 
GIXE MARIA, JESUS CHRISTUS NATUS EST. 
Over this star the star of Bethlehem, guiding the wise 
men, is said to have become stationary eighteen-hundred 
years ago. Near here two or three steps lead down to 
the oratory of the manger in which was placed the cradle 
of Christ and opposite this again, is an altar over the 
spot where the Eastern kings adored the Holy Child. 
The walls of the original rock are hung with draperies 
and ornamented with paintings. The upper part is a 
false roof and the pavement is of flags of white marble. 
The thick darkness of the cave is broken only by the fee- 
ble glare of lamps and tapers. And, sad to say, not ten 
feet away from the very spot on which the Prince of Peace 
is believed to have been born, stands, day and night, a 
Turkish soldier fully armed. Another performs a similar 
dut}' in the church above. And these guards are abso- 
lutely necessary to prevent the jealous fury of the Greek 
and Latin Christians from breaking out into personal vio- 
lence upon each other. 

Adjacent to that of the Nativity, we visited several 



The Cradle of the Founder. 225 

other crypto and grottoes which, however, are probably 
worth little beside mere mention. One was that of the pit 
into which were thrown the murdered innocents slain by 
Herod. Another is that of S. Joseph where he is said to 
have received the command to depart into Egypt. Most 
interesting of them all is the oratory of S. Jerome in which 
he translated the Vulgate and passed many days and 
nights in prayer. Close by is the former tomb of this 
father of the Church and also those of his devoted ad- 
herents, S. Paula and her daughter Eustochium. Com- 
ing again into the cave of the Birth, we passed a round 
hole in the floor through which, according to ancient tra- 
dition, the Heavenly Father caused a well to spring up 
for the use of the Holy Family. 

Leaving the Church behind, we wasted enough of our 
time to allow us to visit the so-called u milk grotto," the 
whiteness of whose rock is said to have been caused by 
the spilling of a few drops of the Virgin's milk as she 
there suckled the Holy Child. This cave has the pre- 
tended virtue of procuring for all nurses in want of it — 
be they Catholics, Schismatics, or even Turks — a supply 
of milk. Small pieces therefore of the chalky scrapings 
are made into little cakes and conveyed to all parts of 
the world. Descending the hill of Bethlehem and cross- 
ing the fields of Boaz where Ruth, the Moabitess, came 
to glean, we reached, after a few minutes, a little plain 
shut in by low hills. Upon it is a square planted with 
olive trees and surrounded by a stone wall. Here is the 
Grotto of the Shepherds — the place where the angel of 
the Lord announced the Birth of Jesus Christ. 

We sat down to rest under the shade of the olive and 
sycamore, while the lizard and chamaleon made sport for 
us in the sunshine. I know of no place in the Holy Land 



226 



Days in the East. 



whose spell seemed to me stronger and truer than this. 
Bethlehem nestled a little way off on its fertile hillside 
and it seemed as if the skies above were indeed the very 
ones which were so luminous and resonant with song, 
when here, so long ago, the Shepherds u watched their 
flock by night." 

We sat there some time engaged in thought and our 
respective occupations of sketching with pen and with 
pencil and then, with the spell still upon us, rode slowly 
back toward Jerusalem. A lovely sunset threw its soft 
rays around us as we crossed the valley of Eephaim and 
it was already dark when we passed the spot where once 
stood the huge, grim tower of Mariamue and dismounted 
at the Jaffa gate. 

We had now been some three weeks in Jerusalem, and 
we began to think of leaving. There was a forlorn hope 
that we might get on to Egypt in a week or two. But, 
for my own part, I was going down to Jaffa merely to 
await results and having no plans beyond that point. 
Our odd hours were now being spent in the refreshing of 
memory concerning scenes with which we had grown fa- 
miliar and upon which we hardly expected to look again. 
Among my last experiences were visits to the Greek and 
Latin Cathedrals where one has a good opportunity of 
noticing the difference between the Eastern and Western 
rituals. At the former, which stands in the centre of the 
huge group of buildings outside the Jaffa gate, I heard 
the best and most dignified service I had ever witnessed 
in any Greek church. It was a solemn Vespers chanted 
alternately by long-haired priests in robes of gold and 
crimson and singing men whose voices thrilled rny soul 
with their sweet impressiveness. There was present a 
large and devout congregation, profoundly bowing and 



The Cradle of the Founder. 



227 



crossing beneath the lofty and spacious dome. It was 
some time before I turned to leave and bestow a passing 
glance upon that gigantic column in the courtyard which 
every traveler sees and admir.es, but of which no one 
knows the intended use. There it lies, prone upon its 
native rock from which it is almost completely hewn, but 
from which, though well shaped and rounded, it has nev- 
er been detached. 

At the patriarchal church of the Latins the service was 
not Vespers but a Sunday morning Mass at which the 
patriarch himself was present. Here, as at the Greek 
church, the ritual was at its best, and was performed in 
a simple and beautiful Gothic temple. The priests were 
clothed in robes of gold and white, and while the altar 
was richly vested, both it and the church were agreeably 
free from the usual tawdry ornamentation. 

In this connection it seems but natural that I should 
at least allude to the chaste Gothic edifice which, on 
Mount Sion, represents another great branch of the 
Catholic communion — the Church of England. In its 
pulpit, by the invitation of its esteemed rector, the Rev. 
Mr. Kelk, it was my high privilege to preach the word 
in the same Holy City from which it first went forth to 
evangelize the world, as well as to assist at the Holy 
Communion within half a mile of the very spot where it 
was instituted. The English Church mission to the Jews 
is an admirable work carried on by noble men. Its mas- 
ter spirits, so far as I could judge, are the Rev. Mr. 
Friedlander and his accomplished wife, whose courteous 
hospitality added so much to the pleasure of my sojourn 
in Jerusalem. In the company and under the roofs of 
people like these and our estimable consul, Dr. Merrill 
and his wife, we were never suffered to grow lonely in 



228 



Days in the East. 



Jerusalem. Nowhere in our wanderings had we more of 
a home feeling in a place where our sta}' was so short. 
The English and American residents in Jerusalem are 
few in number, but they form a circle in the midst of 
which the most refined culture and the freeest courtesy 
to strangers walk hand in hand. 



DOWN TO JAFFA. 



At last one bright morning, a rather hard-looking, old, 
three seated wagon was driven up in front of our hotel and 
my artist friend and I both prepared to bid adieu to the 
Holy City. We considered it a final parting from Jerusa- 
lem though it did not prove so to be. Once more did we 
stand together within its walls and twice did I revisit it be- 
fore we left the shores of Palestine. But there was a veil 
before the future and at the time, our departure in that rick- 
ety vehicle — the best, however, to be had — was clothed in 
all the solemnity of a lasting farewell. We threw our last 
coins to our beggar friends from the balGony, bade good- 
bye to our acquaintances in the hotel, and took our seats. 
Away we rattled over the Jaffa road, looking often and 
lovingly back upon the sacred walls and towers until they 
were lost to view. To be sure they held within their 
embrace a mass of infidelity and corruption, spiritual, 
moral and physical ; but still they could never be any 
thing else than clear to us. Even in her degradation, we 
could, with full hearts and moistened eyes, say in the 
words of the Psalmist, of her who had entwined herself 
about our hearts: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let 
my right hand forget her cunning. If I remember not 
thee, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth." 

And now our troubles began. Among the ruts and 
stones and windings and declivities of this road to Jaffa 



230 



Days in the East. 



we at once commenced to crucify our flesh as we never did 
before. If there be in the wide world a worse highway 
than that which we were now obliged to travel, I should 
like to hear of it. It is a true Turkish road, as much 
poorer than the French diligence route from Beyrout to 
Damascus as the government which built it is inferior to 
the civilized powers of Western Europe. It is the only 
carriage road in all Palestine which is at present regularly 
used. Sony as it was, however, it was planted on each 
side with Scripture histories and Christian traditions. 
Along a portion of it the Ark of God was once borne 
from Kirjath- Jearim to Jerusalem. Over it the Redeemer 
Himself may possibly have walked with the two disciples 
toward Eminaus, whose site is at least uncertain. By it 
Roman legions and crusading armies went tramping to- 
ward Jerusalem. At some distance on the left we soon 
sighted, lying in its deep secluded vale, the Convent of 
the Holy Cross. Then we descended into a valley on 
either side of which rose little garden slopes green with 
the foliage of lemon, orange, vine and pear. At the bot- 
tom we crossed over the brook called Terebinthe whence 
an unreliable tradition declares that the youthful David 
took his five smooth stones. The same tradition also as- 
serts that in this neighbourhood Goliath fell. Here we 
made a halt, probably for the refreshment of our driver 
who was not without the weaknesses of his profession. 
While waiting here, I had the satisfaction of recovering 
nry guide book which had been unconsciously jolted from 
my coat-pocket and was now, in exchange for backsheesh, 
produced by several Arabs— one of whom had picked it 
up. Starting again we climbed the opposite hill by cir- 
cuitous windings and thence looked across to Ain-Karim , 
perched upon its rocky hill-side and claiming to have 
been the birthplace of John the Baptist. Somewhere 



Down to Jaffa. 



231 



there, among yonder hills and in those quiet vales there 
was first heard from Mary's lips the triumphant gladness 
of the Magnificat. How near S. Luke's story seemed to 
come to us, as we gazed ! But scene succeeded scene so 
rapidly, that there was little time for imagination and 
thought. We might never go over that road again, 
and now was our chance to observe, instead of going into 
raptures. On all these hills around the heroic Maccabees 
have left their names. Some have even thought that on 
one of yonder hill-tops rose the seven pyramids which 
marked the Maccabean sepulchres and which were said 
to have been visible from the sea. But in the precious 
ointment of these ready identifications there nearly 
always lurks a fly of doubt and in this case the fly is 
rather large. Still it is just possible that we may even 
now be in the vicinity of that spot where Mattathias an- 
swered the tempting promises of the envoy of Antiochus 
by slaying the first Jew who approached the altar of idol- 
atry ; and there is inspiration in the thought. But 3'on- 
der is Kirjath-Jearim — "City of the Woods," now called 
Abou-Ghaush, after a famous Moslem bandit who used 
to levy tribute on all who passed. It stands on the fron- 
tier between the tribes of Benjamin and Judah and on 
the hill above it was situated, no doubt, the house of 
Abinadab into which the men of the city brought the re- 
covered Ark of God. Somewhere on the road we may 
have passed, too, the house of Obed Edom the Gittite 
into which David carried the ark, in fear, after the pre- 
sumptuous Uzzah had been stricken to the ground beside 
it. This city was likewise the birthplace of the seer, Uri- 
jah. Near it stands an old gray Gothic church belonging 
to some ancient monastery but now a massive, though a 
simple ruin, beautified by the near presence of a single 
stately palm. Nearly every old church in Palestine is 



232 



Days in the East, 



now one of these two — a ruin, or a mosque. May the 
daj" soon corne when the Christian shall get back his own 
and the Koran be made to vacate the holy places from 
which it has so long crowded out the Bible. 

We now rode up a series of ascents from one point of 
which there burst upon us a glorious view of the "great 
sea" whose waters sparkled afar off upon the horizon. 
On the hither side of this blue expanse lay another plain, 
of deepest green — the plain of Sharon. On it we could 
easily distinguish the white houses of Eamleh and Lydda, 
nestling amid their palm-trees, and beyond these, the or- 
ange-gardens around Jaffa, breaking the dismal belt of 
sand along the sea-shore. Our wa} T now wound beneath 
the olive groves of Sarris and led down into a narrow 
valley — sometimes called the vale of Jeremiah — from 
some uncertain associations with that prophet. On one 
side of the road we saw a little grove of beautiful green 
oaks, or terebinths, shading a running spring and calling 
loudly upon the traveler to pause there for rest and re- 
freshment. Then came a wine-press, hewn in the huge 
flat rock. Immediately after this we reached Bab-eU 
Ouadi — the "gate of the valley." There is here a sort 
of osteria, or khan, where all the passing wagons stop to 
bait their horses. And it is a place which ever} T traveler 
who has been over that road will remember, whether he 
has spent the hour of recuperation over an indifferent 
luncheon in the little room above the stable, or has im- 
patiently kept his seat in the wagon reading, making 
notes, or gossiping with Mahmoud and Achmet. 

Our own luncheon, however, was, on this particular 
day, taken not here, but at "Howard's Hotel" near La- 
troun. Thither we drove within sight of that town of 
Emmaus where Maccabaeus fought Georgius — the gen- 
eral of the Syrian King. At Latrome we found, near 



Down to Jaffa. 



233 



the hotel, an underground sepulchre in the face of whose 
walls were nine niches for bodies, and which claimed, 
rather unwisely, to be the burial-place of the Maccabees. 
Tradition also says that here Dismas, the penitent thief, 
once plied his nefarious trade ; a story rendered more 
probable by the name of the town itself, Latroun being 
derived from latro, a robber. It is said that the two 
thieves of the Crucifixion were partners here, and that 
when Joseph and Mary were on their waj^ to Egypt with 
the Holy Child, Dismas was the means of rescuing them 
from the violence of his companion. As a matter of 
fact this neighbourhood has never, in times past, been 
notorious for honest men. 

And now the hills of Benjamin and Judah began to 
melt into the fertile plain of Sharon — sweet, lovely and 
dotted with villages which were picturesque only in the 
distance. This was the plain over which were once fed 
the countless flocks of David ; a plain carpeted in spring 
with beautiful wild-flowers of every hue, among which 
one seeks all in vain for its own peculiar rose. As we 
came upon it, we threw a skeptical glance over a little 
village which some one has too confidently identified with 
ancient Nob whence Abimelech came forth and gave to 
the youthful David the shew-bread and Goliath's sword. 
A more likely site was that of the ancient Gezer, on a 
hill to our left, the city whose king Joshua slew and 
which was afterwards brought to Solomon as a dowry by 
Pharaoh's daughter. The road, before so hard and rocky, 
had now become soft and in some places miry from the 
recent rains. There being no fences or hedges, we were 
able however to make easy detours on either side of the 
highway when any advantage was to be gained by so doing. 
Only small portions of Sharon are now under cultivation, 
the country, so far as inanimate nature is concerned, be- 



234 



Days in the East, 



ing not unlike some portions of our western prairies. It 
is broad, rolling, green with verdure save where some 
hill-side rears its rock}' escarpment from the plain, but 
with hardly a tree in the whole picture. The laws con- 
cerning land and the taxation of trees are such a*s Turks 
alone could frame, and none but a fool would be likely 
to plant trees under such regulations. Think of putting 
an olive-tree, which will not bear for ten or fifteen 
years, into the ground and yet paying a heavy tax on 
the young shoot from the very beginning. Still there 
are trees to be met with around the villages, sometimes 
palms only, sometimes orange trees as well. The palms 
around Kamleh, which it was a relief to reach after 
seeing so long only irregular groups of mud hovels 
along the road, give the chief charm to that thoroughly 
Oriental looking city, as you approach it either from 
Jaffa, or Jerusalem. This place has been, amid much 
uncertainty, identified with Arimathea, the home of 
Joseph and ]Sicoclemus and there is a Latin monastery 
here, said to stand upon the site of Joseph's house. It 
was around this place that the Crusaders fought some of 
their hardest battles. But the sad proofs of victory re- 
main to this day on the side of the star and crescent ; for 
the great mosque of Ramleh — from whose minaret, even 
as we drove into town, the muezzin was crying far and 
wide the hour of prayer — was once a splendid church. 
At the cafe here we again fed our horses and refreshed 
ourselves with a little cup of the thick, sweet Turkish cof- 
fee which every traveler in the East soon learns to love 
and never refuse. I never thought so little of our own 
capacious cups of coffee-flavored water, sugar and cream 
as when I first tasted this delicious little beverage of the 
Turk. While sitting in the wagon here, my attention 
was attracted by a swarm of small birds, high up in the 



Down to Jaffa. 235 

/ 

air, whose movements were a curious and fantastic en- 
tertainment. At one time the flock would close up into 
the density and shape of a cannon ball flying through the 
air. Again it would spread out, fan-like, into what 
might be likened to a thick cloud of soot. I enquired 
their name of one of the attaches of the khan, but he 
could give it only in Arabic whose terms of natural his- 
tory are all meaningless to me. We were just succeeding 
in ridding ourselves of a crowd of leprous women who 
had surrounded the vehicle, exhibiting their frightful 
sores and ardently appealing for alms, when we were an- 
nounced to be ready for departure. And forthwith we 
jolted out of town on our last stage of the thirty-eight 
mile ride between Jerusalem and Jaffa. As we glanced 
backward, we saw the old square tower which every one 
associates with Ramleh, rising sharply against the even- 
ing sky. And then darkness settled gradually down upon 
the plain — its sombre mantle bringing with it a chill and 
dewy air which penetrated our frames and made us draw 
our garments closely. This was the hour at which we 
should have been in Jaffa, had the desire to fulfil his prom- 
ise to be punctual not been overcome in the morning 
by the chronic laziness of our coachman. We rode along 
in silence, shivering at intervals and seeing only what 
was immediately under our e3'es. In the gloaming we 
passed one Mohammedan mazar, or shrine which had 
nine little domes upon its small roof, and whose principle 
of construction, though there was no resemblance in the 
architecture, reminded me of the pavilion at Brighton. 
Beneath it, I believe, a holy dervish lies buried. In its 
vicinity is said to be the neighbourhood where Samson 
caught his jackals, or "foxes" for this is where Sharon 
merges into Philistia. And now came the last guard tow- 
er on the road — a sort of lounging place for a soldier or 



236 



Days in the East. 



two which we had been passing all along at intervals of 
one or two miles. The pay of a guard on this road is 
four piasters, or twenty cents a day. One is not there- 
fore surprised to hear that the occasional robberies are 
sometimes traced to the guards themselves. 

The sweet odor of the orange groves now filled the 
night air with their delightful perfume. We rode a long 
way through them — past the fountain beneath the syca- 
mores where Tabitha lived and died and was resuscitated 
by Peter ; dashed at reckless speed around the corner of 
the market place, on one side of which a group of Mos- 
lems were seated on the ground around a grave looking 
Arab who was discoursing, or reading to them — I could 
not determine which— and drew up finally at the door 
of Howard's Universal Hotel. 



A HOME AMONG THE ORANGE GROVES. 



The next morning I arose, refreshed and strengthened ; 
for notwithstanding the fatigue and chilliness of our ride, 
I had gone to bed the night before after a good dinner 
and been lulled to sleep by the sighing of the sea. Gif- 
ford had proceeded, on the previous evening, to the house 
of Mr. Rolla Floyd, the well-known dragoman with whom 
he had arranged to stay while sketching in Jaffa. Here, 
the wa} 7 being open and my own stay in Jaffa more or 
less indefinite, I determined to join him. The place 
soon became a second home for us. Our modest, though 
comfortable, rooms adjoined each other and were looked 
after by Mrs. Floyd and her Arab serving woman Aishee 
with true housewifely care. Mr. Floyd and his man 
Dien became our helpers and interpreters in ever} 7 pro- 
ject and expedition after knowledge, laying us under 
many gratuitous obligations. The very horses, chickens 
and turtle-doves in their cage became our friends. And 
as for the cottage itself, it stood in the most delightful 
part of the German colony, an easy walk from the crowded 
little city which we could always see from the up-stairs 
balcony — its houses clinging to the sides of its shelving 
rock and looking almost as if it might, at any moment, 
tumble into the sea. All around, there was a vast pano- 
rama of blue sea and verdant plain, of waving palms and 
hazy hills to charm the eye ; and, to sweeten this 



2 3 8 



Days in the East. 



enjoyment, the fragrance which rose from the encircling 
orange groves and the flowers in the Russian baron's 
garden just below. 

We were members of Mr. Fkyvd's family for nearly 
three months, the most profitable and pleasant portion 
of my entire year abroad. To be sure, we became im- 
patient for the quarantine to be lifted, but we had no oc- 
casion to 41 kill time." There was more than we could 
do and we wanted to do it all. Some of it we did do, to 
our lasting advantage. I am thankful, as I look back 
upon my trip that the quarantine delayed us as long as 
it did. For my own part, I wanted just such a period of 
rest and digestion of knowledge after my recent hurried 
trip from Beyrout to Jerusalem. No place could be bet- 
ter than this with a valuable little library of Eastern 
travel in the house and Mr. Floyd's experience of a sev- 
enteen years' residence in Palestine, to help me in straight- 
ening out my ideas and gaining new information. 

Having thus paid a well-deserved tribute to kindness 
and hospitality whose value was enhanced by our meet- 
ing with it in this far-off land, I proceed to a simple de- 
scription of Jaffa itself. The famous little city is built, 
as I have already implied, upon a hill of moderate height 
which rises immediately from the sea. The houses stand 
on the sea-wall, tier above tier, and make a pretty pic- 
ture from the water, the view being beautified by the usu- 
al minarets within, and the palms outside the city. The 
scene is one of the vividest in my memory, especially as 
I saw it one Januaiw day from a small boat out at sea, 
where though the sun was oppressive on the water, the 
city had for its background not only the orange and the 
palm, but afar inland, the brilliant masses of snow 
stretching along over the hill ranges of Judaea and Sama- 
ria. But walk through Jaffa and sentiment languishes. 



A Home Among the Orange Groves. 239 

There is little beauty, though there is much of interest in 
its narrow, dirty, steep and crowded streets. When we 
were there it was also a perfect nest of small-pox — from 
which, indeed, it is never entirely free. But this disease 
is less formidable in the East than we at home consider it, 
and we soon became as reckless and indifferent as the 
natives themselves and visited the city daily. Once only 
did I come unwittingly into closer contact with it than 
was comfortable, but escaped without serious results. 
One cannot help observing, as he walks through the 
streets, how rare are the persons who have perfect eyes. 
Out of a population of eight thousand, I was assured that 
over five hundred were totally blind. The number of one- 
eyed men is not small, while the multitude of less serious 
optical defects grows, of course, in proportion. The prev- 
alence of this disease among them seems to have touched 
a tender spot in the hearts of the Arabs ; and I have 
watched with much interest the consideration with which 
the blind man is aided on his way in the streets of Jaffa. 

This, however, is somewhat aside from my description 
of the town. It once had walls and two gates, but these 
have long since been removed and but few traces remain. 
The " void space " which once lay just without the chief 
gate still remains and is the market-place through which 
we drove as we came in from Jerusalem. Here the scene 
during the day is one of the most varied and lively in all 
Palestine. Here you may see Arabs of all stations and 
degrees — men, women and children in their motle}* and 
indescribable dresses. Here you may study the general 
appearance of the camels and horses and donke} T s of Syria 
with their various picturesque trappings. Here you may 
taste, if you so desire, nearly every article with which 
the average Arab is accustomed to titillate his palate, 
from the great flitches of camel-steak hung up for sale, 



240 



Days in the East. 



to the soft saccharine cubes of u Turkish delight." I 
shall not now linger over the details of this everchanging 
scene. I often went through it and always found some- 
thing new to see, and I may want to bring the reader 
thither again. 

On the outskirts of the compact little town hover a few 
houses of Europeans, with a hospital and school or two. 
though the majority of foreign residents live in the Ger- 
man colony which might almost be said to form a sepa- 
rate settlement. This colony is completely enclosed and 
not without means of defence. Guards are on patrol 
around it every night, a precaution rendered necessary 
by the unsettled state of the country and the thieving 
proclivities of the inhabitants. 

Jaffa is one of the oldest cities in the world. Its ear- 
liest history is, in fact, apocryphal, and begins with the 
tradition that Noah came there to build his ark. On 
more reliable grounds we know that Jonah came down to 
this port, intending to embark for Tharsis, and that hith- 
er King Hiram sent from Lebanon the wood intended for 
the temple courts. Here also, to mingle mythology with 
Scripture, was the place where Adromeda was chained to 
one of the dangerous rocks in front of the city, and 
where she was rescued by Perseus. But the most inter- 
esting associations are those which connect Jaffa with 
the life and work of the Apostle Peter. For here he not 
only raised Tabitha to life, but here also in his lofty po- 
sition near the sea-side he had that wondrous vision 
which taught him once for all how " God, even to the 
Gentiles, had granted repentance unto life." Some one 
has pointed out how b}* his own small sea of Galilee his 
spiritual vision was circumscribed, only to find a bound- 
less range so soon as he came in sight of this great main 
of the Mediterranean. Of course, we went to see the so- 



A Home Among the Orange Groves. 241 

called house of Simon the Tanner. No doubt the site 
upon which it stands is the same as that of the house 
upon whose roof Peter went up to pray. The conditions 
are fulfilled with more than the accuracy usual in such 
cases. It is beside the sea. It must have been within 
the limits of the ancient, as well as the modern city ; and 
there are yet tanneries in that particular neighbourhood. 
And so when I mounted the staircase leading from the 
little court with its old well and fig tree, to the modern 
house-top and stood in full view of the surrounding scene, 
I felt that S. Peter's eyes must have rested on no more, 
nor less than mine of the broad, blue Mediterranean, 
and that the clear azure above my own head was the 
same out of which he seemed to see the sheet descending. 

Here Richard of the Lion-heart lay sick. Napoleon, 
too, has left some memories of rather a doubtful sort 
around Jaffa. Still, the version of his deeds, when com- 
ing from the enemies of that much-abused, though not 
unimpeachable conqueror, must be taken alwa}'s with at 
least a grain of salt. We went to see the Hospital, now 
an Armenian Church, wherein he ordered several hun- 
dred military patients, ill of the plague, to be poisoned 
that he might not be burdened with their removal. Ac- 
cording to the story, his more humane physicians refused 
to execute his orders saying that it was their duty to 
lengthen life and not to extinguish it. It was here 
also that he cruelly massacred four thousand Turkish 
prisoners on the beach. Jaffa has had a hard time with 
its wars and sieges, often rising like a Phoenix from its 
ashes, and probably Napoleon has had most to do with 
those pages of its history which are written in blood . 

Our long delightful days were now being divided be- 
tween reading and study at home and excursions and 
sketching abroad. Gifford was fond of going to the sea 



242 Days in the East. 



shore for marine views and sunsets, and I never tired of 
accompanying him thither. Deeply did we become at- 
tached to that lovely beach with its snowy surf which 
stretches from Jaffa to the mazar, or ively on the hill 
about two miles above the city. This piece of coast, as 
a promenade unsurpassed anywhere in that part of the 
world, was put by my friend on an olive wood panel and 
now forms one of my most precious mementoes. The 
beach is strewn with beautiful little shells of every hue 
and shape, and it was one of our chief delights to gather 
the choicest specimens of these to be taken or shipped to 
our respective homes. The shell-banks, like the sand- 
banks, are some of the features of the neighbourhood. 
The former are at some points very extensive in area and 
rive, or six feet deep — the accumulations probably of ages. 
As for the latter, they extended all the way down the 
coast, forever encroaching on the fertile soil, being as 
high as fifty feet and, in the neighbourhood of Jaffa, sev- 
eral miles in width. Along this shell} 7 , sandy shore runs 
the coast road to Haifa, TjTe, Sidon and Beyrout. There 
was scarcely a moment when we could see, somewhere 
along the water's edge, neither a caravan of camels, nor 
a solitary horseman. But we loved best the sea itself — 
the waves sometimes calm and idly floating the white sails 
of those ' 'who go down to the sea in ships," and again 
' 'lifting up their voice" and "raging horribly," as they do 
now and then in David's psalms. During the winter we 
had one long storm of four daj's which bowed the feathery 
plumes of the palm-trees and lifted the billows of the sea 
in a way that was magnificent to behold. Thunder and 
lightning, wind and hail swept remorselessly over land 
and water, greeting our ears night and day with one con- 
stant turmoil of the elements. One morning, between the 
showers, we put on our water-proofs and thick shoes and 



A Home Among the Orange Groves. 243 

went down to the shore where we took position in the lee 
of one of the big boats hauled up in safety on the beach 
and watched the fury of the waves. The black-brown 
waters came driving in their foam as if all the impetus 
of Euroclydon were behind them, beating the black rocks 
of the wretched and ruthless harbor, or dashing far up the 
gently sloping strand. There are storms sometimes whose 
fury turns the waters red. Such an one, as Mr. Floyd 
told us, once swept ashore near Jaffa a large steamer 
whose machinery had become disabled leaving her high 
and dry but quite uninjured on the beach. Probably the 
least of S. Paul's perils was by no means the hazard of 
4 'the night and day he had been in the deep." 

The roads and lanes in the environs of Jaffa are de- 
lightful, their ramifications running as they do through 
one vast lemon and orange garden, and bordered with 
impenetrable hedges of the cactus, or prickly pear. We 
explored them often, mounted, or on foot, always observ- 
ing something new. Here and there we would see a Scrip- 
ture tree that was neither an olive nor a palm. One even- 
ing I remember we rode beneath a sycamore, overshad- 
owing the road leading south from Jaffa, a noble tree 
with low, wide-spreading branches. Just the sort of a 
tree for a man to climb, with the spirit and purpose of 
Zacchaeus. - This tree still produces the wretched fruit 
which the prophet Amos gathered in his herdman da} T s. 
Its strong, deep roots are so firmly set in the earth that 
nothing indeed short of a miraculous faith could pluck it 
up and cast it into the sea. Again we would come across 
a tamarisk with its gracefully drooping boughs, or per- 
chance a row of acacias — the "shittim wood" of Scrip- 
ture. Sometimes we would stumble upon a camp of 
Bedouins, or gypsies, among the sandhills, or by the road- 
side, furnishing illustrations of another sort. For we were 



244 



Days in the East. 



almost certain to see outside the door of some one of the 
tents a woman grinding away at the little rude mill with 
its upper and nether stone and producing the same sound 
which hums and rumbles through sundry Bible verses. 
On the heads and necks of these women might often be 
observed huge strings of gold and silver coins hanging 
down over their brows and cheeks. Sometimes they de- 
pended from the edges of the black burko, or face-cloth 
over the top of which peers a pair of great, lustrous eyes. 
This sort of ornament is much in fashion among Arab 
females. The coins of which they are composed are a 
sort of perpetual dowry and family heirloom, handed down 
from mother to daughter, never taken for a husband's 
debt and seldom stolen. Enormous sums a/e thus worn 
on the persons of the lowest class, for Arabs seldom en- 
trust their savings to a bank. Our servant, AisJiee, had 
the finest head-gear of the kind that I have ever seen, it 
having been made at Bethlehem in the shape of a sort of 
helmet out of old Napoleons and coral beads. There was 
no metal in it baser than gold, the pendant under the throat 
being the largest Turkish gold coin, worth about twenty- 
five dollars. The whole affair had in it about a hundred 
dollars in coins. Even the pet children, when quite 
small, are laden with these money ornaments, and one 
might often notice them thus distinguished amid the 
motley little rabble of tattooed and unwashed creatures 
playing in the sand around the paternal tent. Other 
noticeable decorations are the anklets and bracelets made 
of rough colored glass, many of which are manufactured 
at Hebron. 

Among the longer excursions which we sometimes 
made was one to the El-Aujeh river, some three or four 
miles north of Jaffa. On .this occasion our party was in- 



A Home Among the Orange Groves. 245 

creased by Mrs. S. and Mr. R. of Jerusalem, who had 
come down to the sea-coast for a change of air and were, 
for the time being, welcome and agreeable additions to 
our little family. We rode cheerily over the plain of 
Sharon in a fresh, bright, atmosphere, now skirting the 
edge of a hill whence we caught lovely glimpses of the 
sea, now plunging through the soft and clayey bottom of 
a ravine and anon trampling under our feet a brilliant 
patch of the first flowers of early spring. The landscape, 
as usual, was full of objects of interest and one trivial 
thing which however has vividly photographed itself upon 
my memory was a group of camels just disappearing over 
the top of a neighbouring ridge, their huge forms, even to 
their lower limbs, being clearly outlined against the sky. 
It was the verification of a bit of scenery in some Oriental 
tale. One soon observes how superficial is the cultivation 
here, the Arab plow merely scratching the earth and 
making no true furrow. Yet I am told that this method 
is best suited to the soil and that the deeper subsoiling, 
imported by the colonists, is in this country a comparative 
failure. In some portions this plain of Sharon still re- 
minds } T ou of the days of old when the pastures were full 
of feeding flocks and the valle} T s of golden corn. But 
such spots are now oases in a wide, though not barren 
waste, and the constant sight of the Arab fellah, with 
his gun, sword, or club about him wherever he goes, tells 
you partly why they are so. The security of life and 
property is, in fact, at its minimum in Palestine, and 
never will be otherwise until " the sick man " at Stam- 
boul dies and leaves no successor. At length we reached 
the rapid little river with its two rude mills and pictur- 
esque palm-trees. We halted for a few moments but it 
was only our turning point, with little to see, the pleas- 



246 



Days in the East. 



lire and exercise of our ride having been our chief object. 
We returned to Jalfa by a different route, and entering 
the town from behind, had another variation of that ever 
interesting city, one half hiding itself from every land- 
ward point of view in its masses of verdure. 



RAMLEH AND LYDDA. 



One morning in December we locked up our little cot- 
tage and the entire household started for Ramleh, where 
we were to spend the day with an estimable missionary 
and his wife. Mr. Floyd rode one of his handsome 
horses, and the rest of us endeavored to keep our spirits 
up and our tempers smooth in the uncertain seats of one 
of those inevitable wagons. They are all pretty much 
alike, no one being much preferable to, though it may be 
some newer, than its companions ; but all alike infinitely 
better than the detestable road they have to travel. Once 
indeed we had a treat — a drive in the baron's family car- 
riage — a lumbering sort of vehicle, but with thick, soft 
cushions and stout, easy springs. Inside of this, the road 
over which the high-mettled horses fairly flew, grew more 
tolerable ; especially as we were always in the plain and 
not among the hills. In general however, as on this 
particular morning, our means of conveyance were of a 
strictly plebeian* kind. We drove past the fountain of 
Dorcas, and leaving behind us the palms and oranges, 
soon emerged upon the road to Jerusalem of which it was 
my good fortune to know nearly every mile before leav- 
ing the Holy Land. For some distance the road was 
lined with a row of thick acacias of which and other feat- 
ures I had taken little notice during the chilly ride of a 
few nights previous. In front of us rose the long blue 



248 



Days in the East. 



line of the Judsean hills, sublime for their scener} r and 
sublimer still for their sacred associations. The only vil- 
lages of importance that we passed were Yazur, the 
ancient Hazor and Beit-Dejan, one of the numerous 
•'Houses of Dagon," but erroneously said to be the place 
where was the ark and where Saul's head was deposited. 
After a drive of about three hours we arrived at Ramlehand 
forthwith proceeded to the house of Mr. and Mrs. S. and 
their daughter whom we found living modestty but com- 
fortably in the native style. The ideas of the family are 
those of the Plymouth Brethren, but their lives are those 
of simple hearted missionaries, full of devotion and good 
works to the degraded creatures around them. We sat 
with them for a while in pleasant converse and then went 
out beyond the ancient pool and established GirTord in a 
self-chosen point of vantage in the suburbs whence he 
could make a study of the city. Mr. Floyd and I then 
explored the streets, pausing to look through the gate- 
way into the courts of the great mosque — which, as I 
have said in a previous chapter, was in crusading times 
a church — and again stopping at the cloor of a Moslem 
school whose stud} T seemed to consist in monotonous vo- 
ciferations of certain passages in the Koran. Here we 
were invited by the pedagogue to step inside and take a 
seat on the mat beside him, but mindful of other possible 
neighbours, worse even than odorous Arabs, we declined. 
There were none but boys within, education among the 
Mohammedans being thought wholly unnecessary for 
girls or women. But education even for boys is most 
meagre, their one great text book being the Koran. 

In one of the narrow streets of Ramleh we came upon 
several of those great hea\y doors which are nearly al- 
wa}'3 locked and barred, while entrance and egress are ob- 
tained by means of a little low wicket set in their middle 



Ramie h and Lydda. 



249 



portion. This wicket is the "needle's eye" of Scripture, 
and the chance of the rich man who trusteth in his 
riches is indeed slender, if it be proportionate to the dif- 
ficulty of getting a camel through such an opening. The 
feat is, in fact, absolutely impossible. It is not a very 
pleasant thing, even for an average man to be obliged to 
use such a low wicket frequentty, as the members of our 
former party themselves discovered while at the Hotel 
Dimitri in Damascus. But what better explanation 
could there be of an interesting text than such an expe- 
rience? We were thankful for it and did not grumble. 

After luncheon was over Mr. Flo} T d and I left the la- 
dies to themselves and Mr. S., and mounted our horses 
for an afternoon excursion to Lydda, or Lydd, as it is 
more shortly called by the inhabitants. First, however, 
we rode over to the old tower which rises above some 
extensive ruins, variously claimed b}^ Christian and Mos- 
lem. The spot is said to be the burial place of forty 
martyrs, though precisely who those martyrs were and 
whether Moslem, or Christian, I was unable to ascertain. 
But what we came for was to ascend the tower and ob- 
tain the view. So, giving our horses into the care of an 
Arab, we began cautiously to climb the old winding 
stairway until, after a few minutes' patient toil, we 
emerged upon a narrow ledge or platform which encircles 
the top. Here we had the best part of Sharon and Phil- 
istia at our feet, with the hills on one side and the great 
sea on the other. How delightful it was to read from 
Scripture histories, not turning innumerable pages, but 
simply changing our positions in order to cover a new 
set of entire chapters. We began to come down to de- 
tails. Away to the west, just on the hither side of those 
holy hills, lay the valley of Ajalon and the Beth-horons. 
Not far from these on that low tell stood most probably 



250 



Days in the East. 



ancient Modin. made famous by the heroism of the Mac- 
cabees. There too were Gimzo and Gezer. both of Scrip- 
ture mention ; while, as the eye swept around toward the 
south and east, there came rapidly into view the sites and 
remnants of some of the great cities of the Bible — Gath, 
Ekron. Ashdod, and the rest. Gaza and Ascalon were 
out of range, but we knew their direction until the sandy 
coast line became indistinguishable. On this, not far 
away, we could descry Jaffa and the intervening vil- 
lages, while on the north lay the long ranges which cul- 
minates in Carmel, and on the plain a little distance off 
the old city of Lydda with its picturesque palm trees 
standing guard around it. 

We descended and pursued the road to Lydda — start- 
ling a marten, or two from the cactus as we rode along. 
The distance was- short and the journey pleasant. As we 
entered the unattractive little town. I tried to conjure up 
the appearance it wore when Peter came here and healed 
the paralytic JEneas. Probably in point of cleanliness it 
was not much different then from what it is now. A coun- 
cil of the Church once sat here and gave a cordial wel- 
come to the heretic Pelagius. We went first to- the old 
gray church of the crusaders which reminded me at once 
of the one I had seen at Sebaste; and in the crypt of 
which we found the handsome marble tomb of the great 
S. George. This shrine is now in the hands of the Greeks 
who have neatly repaired the old and battered building. 
An aged monk gave us tapers and conducted us down the 
low dark stairway where we inspected the tomb at our 
leisure, although there is nothing about it worthy of spe- 
cial record. Neither was the interior of the church any 
richer in objects of interest than the interiors of Greek 
churches usually are. So with a parting tribute to the 
memorv of the valiant saint, who it will be remembered 



Ramleh and Lydda. 2 5 1 



slew the dragon, not here, but at Beyrout, we paid the 
venerable anchorite his backsheesh and departed. 

We sauntered through one or two of the narrow streets, 
but found little that was new to see. The glory of Lydcl 
has long since departed. We did see one customer in the 
little bazar who must have been quite bereft of at least 
one of the five senses, or else he was a man of perfect 
self-possession. For the almost audible odor which pro- 
ceeded from some fish that he was buying was, as we 
passed, a stunning blow to our own olfactories. It was 
our last impression of Lydd and its bazar. We immediate- 
ly sought our horses and rode back to Ramleh. 

Here, after the interval of an hour's rest, we said good 
b} T e to our hospitable friends and started for Jaffa. On 
the way we were caught in a winter storm and fairly well 
drenched. The clew of Sharon was unnoticed amid its 
grander development. The air was ablaze with the light- 
ning flash and the thunder rolled in long sonorous peals 
over the plain. A Mohammedan tomb stood here and 
there by the roadside and as its new coat of whitewash 
shone in the pale blue light there came to mind the scath- 
ing denunciations of our Lord concerning the Irypocrisy 
which was like one of these very whitecl sepulchres, fair 
and clean without, but within, "full of dead men's bones 
and of all uncleanness." 




CHRISTMAS-EVE AT BETHLEHEM. 



A Christmas at Bethlehem ! The single great opportu- 
nity of a lifetime was not to be lost. There were indeed 
the recollections of that horrible drive to dampen my 
proposal, for my friend's enthusiasm was not so ardent 
in matters of mere sentiment. There was the possibility, 
at that season of the year, of an all da}' rain to heighten 
the miseries of the wretched road. But still there was 
a lurking desire in the heart of my companion to visit 
some of his acquaintances at Ramullah, and we finally 
agreed to ascend to Jerusalem together. We thought 
we should never return thither again. For my own part, 
I had expected to be back in Rome for the Christmas 
holida3 T s, but here we still were ; and I was no longer 
sony, in the prospect of spending the holy-tide on the 
very spot which, on the first Christmas night, was hal- 
lowed by the Saviour's birth. 

We started on Saturday morning, and it was raining 
even when we set off. Luckily, however, the day was 
not so wet as it might have been, the showers being 
light and transient. But under foot it was bad enough. 
The road was full of pools and mud holes, and yet it 
presented a lively and varied set of pictures in constant 
succession. The pilgrims were now thronging toward 
Jerusalem from all parts of the world. Every steamer 
brought a large crowd to Jaffa. The wagons were all in 
high demand, and prices of transportation rose above the 



Christmas- Eve at Bethlehem. 253 



resources of many a meagre purse. Some, who could 
not secure seats in carriages, hired a herd of donkeys 
with their drivers and presented many an amusing scene 
in their novel and uneasy attitudes. But a great multi- 
tude of men and women, young and old, made the jour- 
ney on foot ; trudging along through mud and water and 
carrying their modest parcels and their inevitable teapots 
and tin mugs upon their backs and at their waists. We 
had hardly gotten outside of the town before we saw this 
motley crowd stringing out along the road in front of us 
toward Jerusalem. The most of them appeared to be 
Russians and were members of the Greek Church. They 
smiled pleasantly and the men doffed their hats to us as 
we passed them one after another. My heart went out 
to them in pity and even in respect, as I saw them pain- 
fully toiling along, leaning on their staves, but all kin- 
dling with enthusiasm and delight at being so near the 
Holy Places of their faith. They were the slaves of ig- 
norance — of blind superstition if you will, but there was 
an admirable earnestness and reality about the way in 
which they were prosecuting the one great pilgrimage of 
their lives. Still it was impossible for me to go very far 
in admiration. I had thought that the Syrian Arab could 
hardly be equalled among any but barbarous people for 
his careless habits of life, but the Russian peasant 
evidently comes not far behind him. My contact with 
him at the various shrines of Jerusalem, Bethlehem and 
Hebron was far from pleasant and even this morning I 
had. one striking example of his indifference as to what 
he eats or drinks. One stout woman, in a pair of the 
high top boots worn by so many of these pilgrims, male 
and female alike — stepped into a common mud-puddle 
and stooping down, filled a large tumbler from her knap- 
sack with the thick brackish water. As she raised it to 



254 



Days in the East. 



her lips I could distinctly see several lumps of black clay 
at the bottom of the glass. They were nothing however 
to this woman of Amazonian courage. She drained the 
unsavory draught, threw out the dregs, drew the back of 
her hand across her lips and marched on. 

Early the next morning which was Sunday, we saw 
from the windows of our hotel on the Jaffa road a num- 
ber of these pilgrims just arriving on foot at the gate of 
Jerusalem. They were completely drenched with the 
night rains and some of the more adventurous had no 
doubt been on the journey through the entire period of 
darkness. Fortunately for them they were well provided 
for. on their arrival, in the extensive Russian hospice 
where they have free accommodations for a certain length 
of time. 

After breakfast we went again to that focal point — 
even if it should be proven a fictitious one — of Christian 
Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I was 
glad once more to stand on the traditional spot whereon 
the precious-Burdened cross was lifted into its rocky 
socket and. as I stood, to breathe a prayer which was not. 
I trust, out of spiritual harmony with those of the kneel- 
ing and prostrate pilgrims around. It is a wonderful 
place — this Church of the Sepulchre ; and with all its 
religious caricatures and sad memories of internecine 
Christian strife, it still goes tugging at your heart-strings. 
I was loth to leave it. but I wished again to greet a still 
dearer, because a truer thing — grand old Olivet. So I fol- 
lowed my companion to the gate of S. Stephen and step- 
ping through it. we once more looked lovingly upon the 
sacred mount beyond the Kedron. This is the hill whose 
localities lay so near our Lord's daily life. This is the 
pearl of Palestine memories which no lurking doubt can 
blacken or corrode. There it is " before Jerusalem on 



Christmas- Eve at Bethlehem. 255 

the east," and there it will remain long after the last rem- 
nant of the Holy City itself shall have been swept from 
its plateau. 

We turned to the south and followed the rough and 
circuitous path beneath the walls and above the valley of 
Jehoshaphat — but I shall not describe again what I have 
dwelt upon before. We turned the corner of Mount 
Moriah and climbed Mount Sion, in the shadow of 
whose doorway we sought temporary refuge from a storm 
of wind and rain which now began to break over our 
heads and in whose intervals of abatement we dodged 
back to our hotel. * 

The next evening, which was the night before Christ- 
mas, I started, with an acquaintance from Jerusalem and 
an attendant, for Bethlehem. Gifiord, caring less for a 
night in the Church of the Nativity than for the Christmas 
hospitalities at Ramullah, had gone to that place in the 
morning. The weather was abominable for either excur- 
sion, both of them being attainable only on donkeys. It 
was a damp, chilly night and the Bethlehem road was at 
its worst, swimming with mire. Our sturdy little animals 
got along with considerable difficulty, picking their devious 
way at their own will. It was getting dark when we came 
upon Dr. Merrill and his Arab servant returning, jaded 
and wet, from a trip down into Engedi and the neighbour- 
hood of Jebel-Usdum. As we passed, it was a subject 
of mutual congratulation that our respective journeyings 
were not long to continue. There were frequent signs of 
fast impending rain, although here and there in some parts 
of the sky above, the stars hung resplendent in the azure 
cloud-rifts. We rode silently along the dark, cold, dreary 
wa}', mentally contrasting this Christmas weather in Pal- 
estine with the usual clear, crisp air of that season at 
home. Still, for once, who would not be here rather than 



2 56 



Days in the East. 



there, be the weather what it might. Bye and bye, the 
rain began to corne down ; the clouds grew thicker and 
the sky darker. It was a dismal prospect we had of sit- 
ting up all night in damp garments and with our shoes 
half full of the drippings of our mackintoshes. Just then 
we came within sight of Rachel's tomb standing lonely 
and deserted by the roadside and into the outer court of 
this little building we rode and found a refuge from the 
threatened shower. Necessity alone could excuse such 
a pros}' performance. Rachel's tomb a shelter from the 
rain ! It was, in sooth, too extravagant a contrast be- 
tween the sentimental and the practical. We waited, how- 
ever, no longer than necessary. The brunt of the shower 
seemed so long in coming that we determined to risk it 
again, and started out once more among the falling drops. 
As sharp a ride as our plucky little beasts were capable 
of, soon brought us to Bethlehem and we went without 
pause through its winding, slippery streets to the door of 
the Latin Convent adjoining the Church of the Nativity. 
Here we dismounted and were soon comfortably seated at 
dinner in the hospitable parlor. Our waiters were sever- 
al of the good brethren of the order ; our fellow guests, a 
cheery sociable company of visiting clerics, nuns and lai- 
ty. The dinner was excellent and all the more agreeable 
for being moderate in its courses. Soup, fish and wine 
were freely provided, but no meat. The repast over, the 
company, including ourselves, adjourned into the hand- 
some Latin Church, where we took our seats near the chan- 
cel rail. Between the hours of nine and ten service began, 
the patriarch of Jerusalem, gloved and in long flowing 
robes of fur and crimson, leading into the church a lengthy 
train of officiants and choristers. First kneeling in a long 
row before the side altar of S. Francesco, they paid their 
patronal devotions and then advanced within the sanctuary 



Christmas- Eve at Bethlehem. 257 



rails, where the high altar was alread}~ brilliantly decked 
and lighted. On it lay the rich Eucharistic vestments, 
stiff with gold embroidery and sparkling with many a 
precious stone. The loud clangor of the bells without 
now yielded to the organ's shriller notes within. The 
reverences to the altar made, the patriarch was conducted 
to his throne which was but a little way in front of us and 
thus afforded me a chance of a closer inspection of him 
than I had obtained in his own church in Jerusalem. He 
is a stern, ascetic and severe looking man of perhaps 
fifty-five, and wears an ample beard instead of the usual 
shaven face. The long natal anthems were now sung 
amid the loud cadences of the monks and the splendors 
of a ritual which abated nothing of its richness at this far 
distant, but natal centre of Christendom. Around us, 
sitting on the floor, were numerous white veiled women 
of Bethlehem, so famous for their beauty and nearly all 
of them Christians ; while in another quarter, squatted 
their husbands and sons, each in his striped abaiyeh and 
all wearing even in church their red fezes and turbans. 
In one spot knelt an aged pilgrim, with hair and beard 
long and matted, and holding aloft his staff on the top of 
which was a cross half veiled in a wreath of flowers. 
Another section of the floor was allotted to the French 
Consul and his retinue, a group whose brilliancy of ap- 
pearance vied with that of the clergy at the altar. The 
consul was a fine looking man of tall stature and military 
bearing, the breast of his uniform glowing with insignia 
and jewels. On either side of him sat a subordinate, 
while some half a dozen cavasses, in their gay Eastern 
dresses and armed with swords and silver headed staves, 
stood around. The congregation was further varied by 
the kneeling figures of several priests in cassock and 
bands and little detachments of monks and nuns who wor- 



258 



Days in the East. 



shipped here and there. No one who has ever seen, in 
a great church and on a great occasion, the celebration of 
a Pontifical high mass will desire to have me linger over 
the details of the service. Masses of glowing light, clouds 
of incense, rich vestments, sparkling jewels, entrancing 
music and tactics innumerable made up the outward spec- 
tacle. As for its spiritual aspect it was, as always, chiefly 
dependent upon the feelings and opinions of the specta- 
tor. He must indeed be an uncompromising soul who, on 
such an occasion, could discover nothing with which his 
heart was in . harmony. Even the little child of wax in 
its altar cradle, puerile as such an aid to faith would ap- 
pear in Puritan eyes, taught its own lessons of the Nativ- 
ity to the lowly natives. The crib containing this Lilipu- 
tian image was, soon after midnight, placed in the hands 
of the richly robed prelate who with an acolyte bearing a 
candle on either side, now left the chancel and proceeded 
down the centre of the church. He was followed by the 
clergy and monks, as well as by the Consul and his reti- 
nue, the mass of the congregation falling in behind and 
each one in the procession, cleric and lay, bearing a light- 
ed taper. It was a weird and not unimpressive scene. 
Amid the jubilant notes of the anthems the long train 
slowly moved clown the church and out into the corridor. 

Then, by a sinuous course amid many windings and 
turnings, it found its way into the transept of the old 
church of S. Helena after crossing which, the patriarch 
with his precious burden descended the narrow steps into 
the cave of the Birth. Of course but a small portion of 
the crowd could follow the officiating clergy within its 
dark and narrow precincts ; but by the favor of the guards 
we were among the number. Standing half way down 
the rocky staircase, we had a point of vantage from which 
we could at once escape the stifling fumes of incense and 



Christmas- Eve at Bethlehem. 259 



at the same time overlook the whole scene. The cradle 
was placed first upon the silver star beneath the altar 
which marks the birth spot, while a priest began to intone 
in Latin the account of the Nativit} T given by S. Luke. 
As the story proceeded, the crib was again taken up and 
deposited in the traditional manger which is but a few 
feet away. Hymns of praise now arose from many mouths 
and the eyes of the women who stood around us were 
moistened with tears. To us this trifling pomp and pa- 
geantry seemed wholly out of place, but to the rest it 
was no doubt a vivid and helpful realization of that great 
scene which was enacted on this very spot nearly nine- 
teen centuries ago. At any rate, it is my own concern 
not to censure, but record. There were memories there 
for us all, associations which were wholly independent of 
ritual ; and none but a churlish Christian would refuse to 
hide his differences beneath the cloak of charity, in these 
remembrances of a common Saviour. 

Yet there was one great blemish on the picture — one 
which must fill the eyes of any but a formalist with tears 
of shame. The ancient heathen called upon their com- 
rades to " mark how these Christians love one another. " 
The Turk and the Mohammedan are now obliged, even 
in the fountain sources of Christianity, to take measures 
for preventing Christians from hating one another even to 
the death. During the whole of this rich and solemn serv- 
ice, even while the sacred wafer was being bestowed 
upon crowds of adoring communicants at the altar of the 
Magi, there, just beyond a row of kneeling nuns, stood 
like an ebony statue, the Nubian guard whose presence I 
have noticed in a former chapter. His eyes alone were 
not motionless. They scanned the crowd with the utmost 
caution, rolling hither and thither, while above his head 
his bright bayonet flashed in the fitful glare of the tapers. 



Days in the East. 



His presence there was a commentary which needs no 
commenting upon. He was, alas ! not an ornament, but 
a necessity— even within the very birthplace of the Prince 
of Peace. 

We remounted the stairs, ascending into the church 
above, where the hostile Greeks have their chief altar and 
where in one of the side chapels the equally zealous 
Armenians were even at that hour singing their dismal 
chants. On reaching the Latin church through an inter- 
vening door, we found that the communion was being 
administered at the high altar by the Patriarch and his 
assistant clergy. This being over, the Patriarch now re- 
tired from the church, scattering his benedictions from 
side to side upon his kneeling flock ; and two acolytes 
bearing his scarlet train behind him. It was now about 
four o'clock and after procuring a tiny cup of coffee in 
the Turkish guard room, we mounted our donkeys and 
rode back to Jerusalem. The rising sun was just tinting 
the tops of the mountains of Moab when we left Bethle- 
hem, and stars were even yet shining above the Shepherds' 
plain. But the road being so fearfully bad, it was long 
past breakfast time ere, tired and sleepy, we reached the 
gates of the Holy City. 

Christmas day was lonely enough, spent as it was in 
an almost empty hotel, with the chilliest and wettest 
weather outside. The afternoon was, however, somewhat 
enlivened by a visit to the house of a native Christian 
family, between whose house and our hotel intervened 
the ancient Fuller's Field. We passed over beside the 
upper pool of Gihon, and were received at the door by 
the hostess, gorgeously attired in blue velvet stiff with 
gold and silver embroidery, and wearing several costly 
jewels upon her person. After the formalities of recep- 
tion we were ushered into the parlor around whose sides 



Christmas-Eve at Bethlehem. 



261 



ran the usual broad, low divans customary in a native 
house, and in one corner of which slept, in his crib, a 
little Arab of two years, covered with clothes which 
seemed enough to smother him. His young mother, who 
was now sixteen, had become a bride at thirteen in 
strict accordance with the ideas of the East. Yet she 
was more matronly than a Western girl of like age could 
have been, and with much gravhVy and composure at once 
proceeded to serve us with coffee, sweetmeats and nar- 
ghilehs. On her feet she wore embroidered slippers with 
the occasional addition of the kubkobs, a sort of high 
wooden sandal common in the East and often beautifully 
inlaid with mother-of-pearl, but these last were always 
dropped at the threshold of the room. During the whole 
of this little entertainment under a modest Arab roof, 
I could not help but remark the signs of the low esteem 
in which women are everywhere held throughout the 
East. There w^ere three women present, no one of 
whom ventured to partake of anything in the presence 
of the host and his guests. The aged mother sat on the 
floor beneath the broad, deep window, and smiled gra- 
ciously upon us, but said nothing. The wife and her 
sister-in-law waited upon us with the utmost attention 
and a deference which it seemed sheer selfishness on our 
part to tolerate. But the native women are nowhere 
treated as equals by their husbands, either among Chris- 
tians or Moslems. The Arab wife waits upon her hus- 
band and sons at table, and afterwards takes her own 
food by herself. Her husband, when absent for any 
length of time, is precluded b}- good form from writing 
to, or should he meet a friend from home, from even ask- 
ing after his wife. Still one's sympathy for these de- 
graded creatures receives many a check. When one 
looks at their lazy lords over their pipes and coffee, one 



262 



Days in the East. 



wonders how the women can survive the domination of 
such inconsiderate and unattractive masters ; but the 
sight of the frowzy females themselves again excites the 
feeling that they are not after all so much unworthy of 
their husbands. There is, however, no telling what 
change for the better might not be wrought among them 
by the introduction of female education. Of this there 
is at present a woful lack. It leaves them therefore with 
few or no aspirations. They do the heavy work, they 
grind, they carry brush and water, they gather fuel, and 
accept their slavery as a matter-of-course. 

After sitting a while we rose to take leave of our hos- 
pitable entertainers. Here Eastern courtesy reached its 
climax. The salaams were many and profound. Our 
hands were kissed by the ladies and then gently raised to 
their foreheads, tokens of * -honor" and "truth," and so 
we departed. 

We stayed a day or two longer in Jerusalem and then 
prepared to say farewell a second time. It happened 
that on the day which we had set apart for our return to 
Jaffa the whole rolling stock of carriages on the road was 
to be engaged for those who proposed to go down from 
Jerusalem to meet the Greek Patriarch on his return after 
a long absence, to Jaffa. So, partly for the sake of con- 
venience, partly in the spirit of adventure, we took pas- 
sage in a vehicle which was to start the evening before and 
make an all-night journey to Jaffa. Hastily making our 
preparations we said good-bye to mine host of the Hotel 
Feil and his genial head-waiter and interpreter, Dimitri 
and about eight o'clock rumbled away, warmly and snug- 
ly attired, into the damp and darkness. It was a better 
experience to remember than to undergo ; but we would 
not have missed it. The horrible loneliness of the moun- 
tain road lost its oppressiveness in the grandeur and so- 



Christmas- Eve at Bethlehem. 263 



lemnity of that silent night. The same stars which Da- 
vid saw when he wrote his psalm of the firmament, now 
shone brightly over our own heads and we had nothing 
to do but gaze up at them in uninterrupted thought. 
Midnight in the Holy Land ! It was a well of reflections 
at which it would have been worse than stupid not to 
kneel and drink. There were no guides about, the beggars 
were all asleep, even the everlasting ciy for "backsheesh" 
w T as hushed. There was no hindrance to meditation save 
for a few moments when the flaring lamp of Bab-el- Ouadi 
came in sight and lured us aside for a half hour's rest. 
But w^e were soon off again and hurrying over the plain 
of Sharon. As we passed one of the guard-houses b} T 
the roadside our tipsy driver who had filled up at Bab-el- 
Ouadi, repeatedly hailed his soldierly acquaintance at the 
top of his voice. But there was no response save the 
short, dull echoes. Had there been an} 7 answer to the 
summons it must needs have come from some other than 
a Turkish guard. This worthy representative of law and 
order was either buried in impenetrable sleep, or else mak- 
ing merry with ' his friends somewhere down the road. 
But we needed him not. We hastened on, made the usual 
pause again at Ramleh and at length, not so very long af- 
ter sunrise, sat down to breakfast in the comfortable cot- 
tage of Mr. Floyd. 




A MOUNTAIN RIDE. 



The quarantine kept lingering on. It was now the end 
of January, but still all the regular steamers that touched 
at Jaffa, Russian, French and Austrian, immediately 
turned round and went back to Beyrout. There was a 
weekly expectation that the next steamer would pursue 
her former course southward to Port Said, but it was a 
case of hope deferred. We got tired and impatient. 
There was now little prospect of ruy getting to Rome, 
even by Ash- Wednesday, and Gifford was quite anx- 
ious to get back to his favorite haunts in Venice. Sever- 
al times we had packed and repacked our things and pre- 
pared for departure on short notice for no one seemed to 
know whether any boat was going on to Egypt until it 
had actually arrived at Jaffa, where there was usually a 
delay of from ten to twenty-four hours. It was growing 
monotonous. At last we thought we saw about two weeks 
hence a more certain hope. Gifford got out his utensils 
and went to work again, more to tide over the tedious 
interval than to accomplish anything, while I resolved 
to do what I had long been turning over in my mind, and 
yet. owing to the uncertain weather and other risks, had 
been hesitant about — make a hasty trip into the South 
Country. I engaged Mr. Floyd to be my dragoman, 
providing horses, food and other necessaries, at a stipu- 
lated sum per da}\ We took neither tent, nor servant, 



A Mountain Ride. 



265 



and had no encumbrances except our saddle-bags. I 
wished to see more of Arab life than I had hitherto done ; 
so we were to sleep wherever we could and buy our pro- 
visions as we went. 

One bright afternoon therefore, we bade our friends 
good-bye and rode off together along the familiar road 
toward Jerusalem. Our horses were splendid animals 
and seemed to share our enthusiasm, making me wish 
rather ambitiously that I were as good a horseman as Mr. 
Floyd. The short thick neck of his own magnificent dark 
steed, "Charlie," seemed, like the neck of Job's w T arhorse, 
to be "clothed with thunder" and there was a fire in his 
e} r e which was full of meaning. My own mare, "Nellie," 
was a pure young thoroughbred such as would have de- 
lighted the discriminative eye of a Bedouin, those capital 
judges and trainers of horses, and was also the partial 
property of Mr. Floyd. It was one of the last days of 
January, but Sharon was as green as ever and already 
clothed in flowery hues. Here and there the landscape 
was broken by the grey rock masses which upheaved 
themselves out of the verdant plain. Ever and anon, we 
passed a string of camels, heavily laden if en route for 
Jerusalem, rapid in pace and without any burden save an 
occasional rider, if on the way back to Jaffa. At one 
point by the roadside we passed a Moslem who, in devout 
abstraction, was saying his prayers upon the mat which 
he had spread upon the turf by the side of a purling brook. 
And as the dews of the evening began to fall we saw sev- 
eral jackals, the nearest glimpse I had yet had of these 
repulsive animals. One trotted for some distance along 
the road a little way in front of us, but still not near 
enough to be reached with a revolver. These creatures 
wear the appearance of large foxes and are really a sort 
of cross between a dog and a fox. As already intimated 



266 



Days in the East. 



they are, no doubt, the same animal which Samson caught 
and employed in the destruction of the Philistine's stand- 
ing corn. A little after dark we reached the Valley of 
Ajalon and proceeded at once to Howard's Hotel at La- 
troun, our first night's stopping place. The hotel was 
empty of guests, but having knocked up the solitaiy Arab 
custodian whom Mr. Howard had placed in charge here, 
we secured admission, had a dinner cooked for us. partly 
of things which we ourselves had brought, and afterwards 
found a comfortable resting place in bed. 

The next morning we were up early for we proposed to 
leave the road at this point and ride through the hills by 
way of the Beth-Horons and Gibeon to Jerusalem — a 
long journey and one replete with points of interest. 
Breakfast over, I went out and while the horses were be- 
ing saddled, descended again into the old famil}' cave 
with its nine rock-niches purporting, as I have said, to be 
the tombs of the Maccabees. Some have therefore iden- 
tified the hill of Latroun with that on which stood the an- 
cient Modin. But amid so much doubt and disagreement 
on the part of learned men with reference to these sacred 
sites, the casual tourist can hardly put forth more than a 
mere opinion. Mounting our horses we rode across the 
Jaffa road and followed a bridle path which took us 
through the village of Amwas, or Emmaus which I have 
previously noticed. Here we saw the ruins of an ancient 
church around which some excavations seemed to be in 
progress. Both Arnicas and Beit Nuba which now ap- 
peared a little way before us, are closely connected with 
the fortunes of Bichard of the Lion Heart, who at one 
time stationed the camp of the crusaders in this neighbour- 
hood. We now descended some precipitous slopes along 
whose sides ran flocks of sheep and dusky goats. Not 
far from here we came upon a plowed field in which the 



A Mountain Ride. 



267 



oxen were still at work under the goads of their Arab 
masters. The animal nearest us, on reaching its turning 
point, became rather awkward and refractory. This was 
too much for the patience of the driver who plied his goad 
vigorously, the meanwhile venting his rage in the male- 
diction, "Curse the face of that ox !" An Arab curse is 
polite and always goes sidewise. It strikes some one, 
or something near you, and hurts } T ou only by reflex action. 
The Arab curses not you, but your father, or your grand- 
mother. 

We now had a companion in the shape of a fellah who 
was going from his own home to a village off somewhere 
among the hills to buy an abaiyeh or coat. He carried 
his shoes in his hand and trudged along barefoot over 
the rough and rugged pathway. Over his shoulder was 
slung a scrip of kid skin, probably like that which was in 
use in the Apostles' day ; but our new friend's scrip was 
more full of meal than money ; and Mr. Floyd who, be- 
sides being my interpreter, was also a complete diction- 
ary of manners and customs, informed me that when 
the man became hungry he would stop at the roadside, 
light a fire among the stones and in a few moments, with 
a handful of meal from his scrip and a little water, have 
a thin, hot loaf of bread such as the Orientals delight to 
eat fresh for every meal. He was one who led an out- 
door life and was always at home. When we had first 
asked him his name he had replied : "Your slave, Saieed" 
and then went on to tell us how the meagre crops had 
been damaged by the recent heavy rains. We were now 
passing through the Wady Suleiman, a ravine whose bot- 
tom was the channel of a swiftly rushing stream, and up 
which it is supposed on good grounds that the timber for 
the temple was taken from Jaffa to Jerusalem. Modest 
flowers nestled in delicately colored patches on the turf 



268 



Days in the East. 



and along the craggy slopes grew groves of olives, rooted 
in the scantiest possible soil and almost literally -'bring- 
ing their oil out of the flinty rock/' We noticed also an 
occasional Jcharub tree with its thick, apple-like branches 
and depending from them the long brown pods familiarly 
known as *•$. John's bread." The tree is a sort of locust 
and derives the name of its fruit from the idea of some 
that it was these vegetable locusts which supported John 
Baptist in the wilderness. However this may be, these 
are undoubtedly "the husks which the swine did eat" and 
with which the Prodigal would fain have filled his own 
belly. The scenery now grew wilder. We rode through 
the wretched little town of Yolo which gives to the Vale 
its name of Ajalon. and crossing an intervening valley, be- 
gan to wind up the hill on whose side lies the lower Beth- 
Horon. This place, once fortified by King Solomon, we 
did not enter, merely skirting its edge and turning to as- 
cend to the upper Beth-Horon near which it is supposed 
that Joshua stood when he bade the sun and moon stand 
still. Between the two cities we bade farewell to Soieed 
who now wound his way aside from our own road, through 
a grove of ancient olives. A little farther on. we crossed 
a narrow causeway which had the appearance of being in 
part artificial, and climbing up through the village of 
Beth-Horon. the Upper, found ourselves at the summit 
of the pass. Here. then, was where once stood the Is- 
raelites!) chief himself, in the name of Jehovah command- 
ing the powers of Heaven to obey him. Down yonder 
valley rushed the flying foe. the warriors of Israel in hot 
pursuit. The whole scene now rose before us in all its 
details, but the chief feature was the commanding figure 
of Joshua stretching forth the arm of authority from his 
rocky elevation. More terrible to the Amorites than the 
hailstones and the sword must have been the sight of the 



A Mountain Ride. 



269 



avenger in his God-given might. The sun "standing still 
upon Gibeon and the moon in the Valley of Ajalon" was 
a sign to the combatants on whose side the Lord was 
fighting and might well make a scene like which, says 
the sacred record, there u was none before it, nor after 
it." As we ourselves paused there, a more peaceful vista 
opened to the eye. Adown through the valley we looked 
out over the plain of Sharon to the Mediterranean. It 
was a lovely view of vale and plain and sea and hamlets 
lying low — one of those numerous visions of which mem- 
ory afterwards makes so much, but the frequent mention 
of which might possibly serve only to weary the reader. 
We now left the little city which, like most other places 
of Scriptural interest in Palestine, is a mere collection of 
mud and stone hovels, and leaving the confines of Judah, 
rode forward into the territory of Benjamin. We had 
not gone far among the lonely rocks, where we saw no 
one except a solitary Arab or two and perchance a jack- 
al slinking off out of sight — before we came into view of 
modern Gibeon, or El Jib, seated in the room of the an- 
cient town upon its famous hill. The hill itself, however, 
as we approached it, appeared to be isolated and rising 
out of the centre of a picturesque and verdant little plain. 
Here before us was another treasuiy of sacred recollections, 
and we thought of and talked them over as we rode along. 
On this very plain it was that the persistent Asahel fell 
beneath the fatal spear of Abner. Above the town on 
yonder hill the sun stood still during the scene of slaughter 
below Beth-Horon. That was the city whose cunning 
folk, in old garments and with dry provisions, carne to 
Joshua while he was yet at Gilgal and, purchasing their 
lives with a lie, became hewers of wood and drawers of 
water. Here were once the tabernacle of the Lord, 
and the Ark and the Altar of the burnt offering at which 



Days in the East. 



ministered Zaclok, the priest. Hither, too, carae Solo- 
mon, with all the congregation, to offer a solemn offering 
to the Lord, and here, in the silent watches of the 
night, God appeared unto the wise king and blessed his 
choice of wisdom which he had preferred to riches and 
wealth and honor. Near here, too, the treacherous sword 
of Joab left Amasa wallowing in his blood in the midst of 
the highway ; and even as he clung to the horns of the al- 
tar, here Joab himself met his well-deserved death at the 
hand of Benaiah. These and other memories of mingled 
character rose to our recollection as we climbed the hill 
and entered a place no better than its neighbours for beau- 
ty and cleanliness. El- Jib is utterly unworthy of its 
higher associations — foul, odorous and repulsive. We 
rode toward the miserable building which serves for a 
mosque and by the favour of the magnates of the city 
who, with an inquisitive crowd of men and bo} T s stood 
around and curiously watched the proceeding, we were 
permitted to eat our luncheon in its half flooded court- 
yard. To enter this roofless enclosure we passed through 
a low, narrow door in a wall of loose stones, the staring 
rabble following and planting itself in various upright, or 
recumbent positions between us and the pool of stagnant 
water. But there was nothing embarrassing in our pub- 
lie meal. We were quite at home among our Oriental 
friends, all we asked being plenty of elbow room and that 
thej r should bring us water to drink — both which the}' sup- 
plied in the prospect of a consideration. Here, then, on 
the highest point of Gibeon we rested and enjoyed the warm 
sunny air of that January day. When we chose, we could 
rise to our feet and look over the wall upon a landscape 
which was completely dotted with sundry Scripture texts 
and a prominent feature of which was Mizpeh, towering 
above us, a little way off, the highest point in Judsea and 



A Mountain Ride. 



271 



the great gathering place of Israel. Presently we with- 
drew from our feast and its companions and, leaving our 
horses still in charge of the Arabs, were led clown an ad- 
jacent slope to where a spring issues from the rock and 
spreads its moisture over the pathway. Near by is the 
outline of a large and ancient pool within whose basin 
grows a single lone olive tree. This was the pool of Gib- 
eon where occurred that curious skirmish between the 
men of A brier and the men of Joab which is recounted in 
the second chapter of the Second Book of Samuel. 

We returned, mounted, distributed our backsheesh, and 
rode slowly out of the village and down the hill. Pick- 
ing our way across the intervening hollow, we began the 
rather arduous ascent of Nebi Samuil, the ancient Mizpeh. 
After much patient climbing, we reached the little clus- 
ter of houses which surrounds the so-called burial-place 
of the Prophet at the top. To the roof of this dilapi- 
dated building, once an old crusader's church and now a 
sort of mosque as well as shrine, we now mounted for 
the sake of the superb and extensive view which it af- 
fords. Fortunately the day was clear and we were mag- 
nificently repaid for our labor, for three-quarters of the 
Hoh 7 Land lay like a map at our feet. Toward the south 
stretched the great wilderness of Judaea with Hebron 
and the wells of Beer-Sheba somewhere behind its barren 
hills. To the south-east lay Jerusalem, now only three 
hours away, Bethlehem, the round topped mountain of 
the Franks where Herod's castle stood and where his 
body lies buried, the Dead Sea and the Mountains of 
Moab among whose riven slopes we thought we could 
descry the gorge where ran the warm waters of Callirhoe, 
as well as the situation of the fortress of Machaerus where 
John Baptist met his fate. North of these and much 
nearer our own position, lay the true site of ancient Nob 



272 



Days in the East. 



which was smitten by Saul with the edge of the sword be- 
cause its priests had shown favor unto David. There also 
was Gibsah of Benjamin, King Saul's birthplace and 
where, to satisfy the vengeance of the Gibeonites, his sev- 
en sons were hanged and Eizpah, the faithful watcher, 
protected their bodies from the birds of the air by day and 
the beasts of the field by night. This, too, was the scene 
of that fearful crime committed by the Benjamites upon 
the companion of the Levite, one of the bloodiest episodes 
of the time of the Judges. There, too, was Ramah in 
whose vicinity the prophetess Deborah once made her 
home under the palm-tree, and where some have thought, 
though it be far from Bethlehem, was once heard the voice 
of "bitter weeping ;" and away over bejxmd the Jordan 
we could even discover the neighbourhood of Ramoth Gil- 
ead where the fair daughter of Jepthah came tripping out 
to meet her warrior father all unconscious of her fate. 
As the eye swept farther northward it rested on the coun- 
try around Bethel and Eock-Eimmon to which six hun- 
dred of the guilty Benjamites fled in order to escape just 
punishment at the hands of their brethren. Even nearer 
lay Beeroth, once allied with Gibeon and rendered inter- 
esting by the tradition that this was the point at which, 
on that memorable return from Jerusalem, Joseph and 
Mary first missed the Holy Child and turned back, to 
find Him conversing with the doctors in the temple ; while 
far away to the west, lay hills and plain and sea in varied 
tints and shadows. What a world of interest and asso- 
ciations were scattered throughout this wide picture ! 
Here, too, one could see, as no where else, the smallness 
of the Holy Land. North and south our view was so in- 
tercepted by the hills that I refrain from venturing an 
opinion as to its extent. But from east to west we could 
easily see from one side of Palestine to the other and 



A Mountain Ride. 



273 



neither side seemed far away. Starting in the morning 
from the mountain where we stood it would be easy to 
reach the Mediterranean and still easier to reach the Jor- 
dan's banks before night. But small as the country is, it 
was truer of the landscape beneath us than of any other in 
the wide world that }T>u cannot set your foot, except you 
tread upon some spot of ancient history. How rich it was 
in the memories of patriarchs and prophets and apostles 
— nay, even of the great Son of Man Himself! With 
the cities and localities lying within our range of vision 
more than half the Bible narrative is connected and a 
large part of it was inspired and written on this very soil. 

But the ground directlj T beneath us has a history of its 
own upon which we have as yet scarcely touched. Here 
was where once rose in the midst of Israel the aneient 
watchtower of Mizpeh, the great rendezvous of all the 
Hebrew tribes. Here it was that the newly chosen Saul, 
rising head and shoulders above the rest of the assembled 
people was greeted with acclamations and the hills and 
valleys beneath us echoed and re-echoed the jo} 7 ful shout, 
"God save the King !" I have said that the Moslems, 
the credibility of whose traditions is seldom convincing, 
call this height Nebi Samuil because of his reputed tomb 
on its top. But the Scripture tells us that Samuel was 
buried not here, but at Ramah, his birthplace, which lies 
over yonder towards the river. Still this place was one 
much frequented by the great judge and prophet and is 
closely bound up with the history of his life. Here, too, 
knelt Coeur-de-Lion whither he ascended to get his first 
view of the Holy City and confessed that he had seen it 
to little purpose, if God did not permit him to wrest it 
from the hand of the infidel. 

We descended, resisting all importunities to waste ex- 
tra backsheesh upon the fictitious tomb of Samuel, and 



274 



Days in the East. 



resuming our saddles, started off down the mountain. 
But we had hardly got out of the village before we came 
upon a deep snow drift, completely blocking our narrow 
way and past which there was no dodging between the 
enclosing walls of loose stones. So Mr. Floyd dismounted 
and struggling through it, drew his horse after him by 
a series of frantic leaps which half buried the animal in 
the snow at every jump. For my own part, being of 
much lighter weight, I remained in the saddle and was 
successfull}' carried through by my mare Nellie, who took 
advantage of the course thus opened for her by her pow- 
erful companion. This was the only impediment of the 
kind we met with during this winter journey and was a 
peculiarity of the elevated point on which it lay. Our 
way now descended rapidly past several ancient pools and 
winding around among the hills gave us a near view of 
what has perhaps the most authentic claims to be the an- 
cient Emmaus, to which our Lord accompanied the two 
disciples. A Roman road, the remnants of which we 
crossed soon afterwards at the bottom of a wady, once 
connected it with Jerusalem. In this neighbourhood we 
saw, at a distance, a group of dancing women making 
merry as they went and enlivening, with their picturesque 
attire, the austerit} T of the landscape. It is not unlikely 
that they were returning from a wedding somewhere 
among the hills. It was now growing dark, but our day's 
journey was nearly over. We climbed another slope and 
saw before us the familiar entrance to the Tombs of the 
Judges. To these we devoted a few moments more of 
hurried inspection, in order to clarify the ideas derived 
from my previous visit, and then pursued our waj r as fast 
as possible to the Hotel Feil, now become, for the third 
time, my temporary tabernacle beneath the walls of the 
Holy City. 



THROUGH DREARY REGIONS. 



The next morning we were astir long before dawn. By 
the light of a lantern we saw our way into the saddle. 
Dimitri was on hand, as twice before, to see us safely off, 
and with mud under foot and a moisture that was almost 
solid in the air, we cautiouslj T picked our way between 
stone walls and Mohammedan sepulchres until we got 
out at last upon the road to Bethlehem and Solomon's 
pools. As we crossed the Valley of Rephaim I w r as re- 
minded of my previous Christmas visit to Bethlehem. 
The road became a mere puddle of water and mud. It 
was still too dark to see many rods ahead and it now 
began to drizzle harder. We rode along, comfortable 
and dry, but silently and solemnly waiting for the dawn. 
By the time we reached Rachel's tomb the da}' had bro- 
ken and the weather was improving. Our spirits rose in 
proportion and my own eyes were opened wider for we 
were now leaving the route to Bethlehem and entering 
upon one which was new to me and which led to the pools 
of Solomon and Hebron. Across the valley we saw, 
through the still, misty air, Beit Jala — the house of the 
Greek and Latin patriarchs, lying on its lovely slope. 
Presently the road became one of the worst for rockiness 
and dreariness that I had yet seen any where in Pales- 
tine. Fortunately, however, the vision of an ugly ride 
was soon momentarily dispelled by our arrival at Solo- 



276 Days in the East. 



mon's Pools. These huge tanks are three in number, so 
arranged on different levels down the valley that the sec- 
ond and third can be filled with the water alwaj^s accu- 
mulating in the first. They are large enough, each of 
them, to float a good-sized man of war. Beside the 
upper pool stands an old castle whose architecture hardly 
goes back to Mediaeval times and in front of whose gate- 
way lounged a listless representative of the slender Turk- 
ish guard within. But a few steps away from here we 
found a small rude enclosure through whose low door we 
went down a narrow, slippery staircase at the bottom of 
which we could hear the loud noise of a rushing subter- 
ranean current. About half way down we stopped to 
light the candles we had taken the precaution to bring 
with us ; and by their aid found ourselves standing at 
length in a sort of vaulted chamber over a rapid stream 
of pure cold water. This was "the sealed fountain" of 
Solomon, still here issuing from the rock, as it did when 
the wise man alluded to it in Ecclesiastes. Mr. Floyd 
told me that he could remember how it was still sealed 
with a huge stone which no one had been able to remove, 
before the present enclosure was erected. The spring is 
worthy of its name and history and still does its work 
nobly, filling the huge old pools and thence sending its 
waters away over the hills and valleys to Jerusalem 
where it still gushes forth into that large basin beside the 
Mosque of Omar which is probably the modern represen- 
tative of the great brazen sea of the Levitical worship. 

As we rode over the hill, pursuing our way to Hebron, 
we looked down over the pools and saw the beginning of 
the Valley of Etam where Solomon once had his lovely 
gardens, so full of precious things and in which Samson 
was made a captive. It looks barren and desolate 
enough now, but beyond where we ourselves could see, 



Through Dreary Regions. 277 



it is said that a little band of colonists is at work in cul- 
tivating it and meeting with conspicuous success. 

We now entered a region where the road was rougher 
and lonelier than ever. It seemed the natural haunt of 
robbers as, in fact, it was. At one point along the side 
of a deep and narrow ravine, there suddenly emerged 
from behind a jagged rock three powerful Arabs — tw r o 
white and one black, and all thoroughly armed. They 
were, however, not lying in wait, but were themselves 
on a journey, our appearance being as unexpected to 
them, as theirs was sudden to us. It was well perhaps, 
that such was the case for they were no doubt a band of 
prowling thieves. As they came in sight, Mr. Floyd, to 
whose quick ear the Arabic was as familiar as his own 
tongue, heard the black exclaim in a low tone to his com- 
panions, "There's a chance," to which one of the white 
fellows responded u It won't do." So with a surly salu- 
tation, they passed on and we began to breathe more 
freely. Although the} T were three to two, we had a vast 
advantage in being mounted while they were on foot. 
Moreover they knew not how well we might be armed, 
for Mr. Floyd's revolvers, counting twelve good shots, 
were carried in the belt beneath his coat. 

But this road to Hebron, lonely and unsafe as it now 
is, has been one of the most celebrated as it is perhaps 
the oldest highway in the world. It has been trodden 
by the feet of patriarch, prophet, king and warrior for 
generation after generation. Nay the Saviour Himself 
may, in His infancy, have been taken along this route 
on His way into Egypt. Who, then, could be so stolid as 
to ride over this same old road and among these now 
deserted hills and vales so long intertwined with the 
memories of holy men, without a strange thrill of inter- 
est and inspiration ! To travel amid scenery the perma- 



2 78 



Days in the East. 



nent features of which were perfectly familiar to the eyes 
of Abraham and David, is not an every day experience. 
I lifted my eyes and saw at some distance on my right a 
long train of camels traversing the top of a distant 
ridge and every huge form stood boldly in relief against 
the deep blue sky beyond. This interesting feature of 
the Palestine landscape was not new to me. but just then 
it was impossible not to think how like them Eleazar's 
camels may have looked, three thousand years ago. when 
along this same old road he went to seek a wife for Isaac. 
On recounting every such occasion the temptation to 
rhapsodize becomes almost irresistible, but consideration 
for the patience of my readers who have not been warned 
to expect rhapsodies in this simple tale, leads me to sup- 
press the impulse. We arrived at about eleven o'clock 
at the foot of the hill of old Betk-Zur\ a city mentioned in 
the book of Joshua, the top of which was surmounted by 
a ruined tower. Here, a few steps from the spring where 
a group of Moslem women were engaged in filling their 
water- vessels and in bearing them off on their shoulders 
to the town on the neighbouring hill, we spread our rugs 
on the damp green -sward beneath an abrupt and shelter- 
ing ledge of rock. As we half sat and half reclined at 
our simple repast. I endeavored to place myself more in 
relation with the historic region in which, we now were. 
But even here it was hard to separate fact from fable. 
One hill, in sight of which we had already ridden for an 
hour or two. claimed, to the exclusion of several rival 
claimants, to have on its top the true tomb of the proph- 
et Jonah. But it was easier to believe that the ruins 
plentifully sprinkled around the mazar are those of the 
old Scripture town of Halhul than to put any faith in the 
shrine itself. Again, we had just passed the remains of 
that old church of Constantine which is said to have been 



Through Dreary Regions. 



279 



erected as a sort of shrine to Abraham on what the 
Christians of that day regarded as the true plain of 
Mamre. But although ignorant as to how the balance 
of evidence lies, we were fain to consider Mamre as lying 
around the traditional old oak almost beneath whose ven- 
erable branches w r e were to sleep that night below the 
Valley of Eshcol. Another tradition of the neighbour- 
hood was that somewhere near this fountain whose water 
we were drinking, S. Philip, the deacon, baptized the 
eunuch of Candace, queen of Ethiopia. Turning from 
these idle surmisings to facts of personal testimony, Mr. 
Floyd related how he had once traversed this road with 
Miss B. and Miss N. of Jaffa and stopped at this same w-ell 
to water the horses. Then, as now, there was a bevy of 
Arab women thronging the spot. The ladies dismounted 
from their horses and Mr. Floyd appealed to several 
of the fair Mohammedans to hold their animals for a mo- 
ment wiiile he watered his own. But what retort did he 
receive ? The opinions of Moslem womanhood — even in its 
subjection — are strictly conservative. 4 'Let the riders 
hold them. They're no better than you are !" It was a 
burning shame that any man, with women in his party, 
should himself stoop to water the horses ! 

While we were eating, it began to rain, and hastening 
to despatch the remainder of our luncheon, we leaped 
into our saddles and rode off. Now and then we would 
meet an Arab who, in order to keep them dry, had taken 
off his shoes, and was carrying them under his cloak — his 
other hand holding the ordinary w r eapon of defence — a 
long thick club. The showers grew heavier as we ap- 
proached the Valley of Eshcol, passing on our wa}~ the 
reputed birthplace of Gad, the seer and a spot made mem- 
orable by the recent massacre by the Moslems of a small 
colony of Christian families. As w^e entered the famous 



2 8o 



Days in the East. 



vale, the rain began to abate and pulling off our rubber 
head-pieces we looked around upon the celebrated vines 
which still bear the luscious grapes of Eshcol. They lie 
along the ground and cover the slopes in great profusion, 
but I am not aware that mortal eyes ever now see such 
huge clusters, even here, as the spies saw and appropriated 
so long ago. Still the fruit of Eshcol, in its season, is said 
to be a noteworthy sight, and the grape-lover who can 
be here in autumn will find himself in a temporary Par- 
adise. At the bottom of the valley, near the oak of 
Mamre, stands the Greek convent to which we rapidly 
made our way. It was partially filled with a new detach- 
ment of Eussian pilgrims who were engaged in making 
the round of the Holy Places, and had now come to pray 
at Machpelah and Mamre. But we received a warm and 
hospitable welcome from those in charge to whom Mr. 
Floyd was an old friend, and the ample and comfortable 
rooms which were assigned to us up stairs were better 
and cleaner than those I had occupied in any of the 
Syrian hotels. From the deep embrasure of one of the 
windows I could see the venerable city lying two miles 
down the valley, its clouds of thin blue smoke slowly 
ascending into the still air. 



HOARY OLD HEBRON. 



After making some changes, we ascended to the flat 
convent roof in order to get a general idea of the land- 
scape and then rode off to visit Hebron, and arrange for 
an armed escort to accompany us to Beit-Jibrin early the 
following morning. On our way down to the gate of the 
convent enclosure we paused to examine the old Sindian 
oak, or terebinth over which the establishment really stands 
guard. This is said to be the same tree under which 
Abraham received and entertained the angels, who here 
found him sitting in his tent door in the heat of the day. 
This is a tradition credited of course by no rational mind. 
But the tree is a fine old specimen of its kind with four 
huge s} T mmetrical branches shooting out from the top 
of its trunk ; and was, no doubt, a flourishing scion at 
the time of Christ. It may even be the last survivor 
of the ancient grove of Mamre. But whether gen- 
uine or not, it has the same atmosphere of interest and 
even reverence thrown around it as the Holy Sepulchre 
itself by the universal devotion of the pilgrims. This oak 
is still encircled by a large ring of protecting stones, over 
whose round platform its boughs drooped gracefully. 
From these I ventured to pluck one or two leafy memen- 
toes. The girth of the trunk is more than thirty feet. 

After slowly traversing a narrow and muddy lane over 
whose walls ran everywhere the luxuriant, gadding vines, 



282 Days in the East. 



we came at last upon the outskirts of Hebron. At a lit- 
tle distance across a field Mr. Floyd pointed out to me 
the traditional tomb of Abner who was slain in the city 
gate, but the lateness of the hour prevented us from ap- 
proaching it nearer. We rode straight onward, therefore, 
mindful of the necessity of interviewing the governor as 
soon as possible concerning our escort. As we saw the city 
more clearly, more and more of its long and chequered his- 
tory rose to mind. It is one of the very oldest cities of the 
world, built seven years before Zoan, the capital of Egypt, 
although no one knows when the latter city was founded. 
Hebron was, as we are told, the city of Arba, the father 
of Anak and Avas given by Joshua to Caleb, the son of 
Jephunneh for an inheritance. Of old it was one of the 
six cities of refuge and is now one of the four 4 'holy" cit- 
ies of the Jews, sharing that honor with Jerusalem, Ti- 
berias and Sated. Here David reigned for seven years 
and six months as King of Judah. Here Absalom was 
born and hither under the pretence of fulfilling a vow. he 
came to raise a conspiracy against his father. But the 
fact of crowning interest at Hebron is that in it once 
dwelt that 4 -grand old sheikh," the "Friend of God" who 
has given to the city its present Arabic name of El-Kha- 
lih or "The Friend," and that here, in the cave of Mach- 
pelah, he found his tomb. How far back the thought 
carries us, even to the opening chapters of the Bible ! 
What deep interest centers around this burial cave of an 
old shepherd ! whose fame rests simply on the fact that 
he was a "friend of God !" The sons of Isaac and Ish- 
mael still guard his sepulchre together and delight, albeit 
at sword's point with each other, to pay their tributes at 
the tomb of their common father ; while to the devotion 
of the Arab and the Jew is added also the reverence of 
Christian pilgrims from all the ends of the earth. It is 



Hoary old Hebron. 283 



one of the most sacredly interesting spots, as it is one of 
the most authentic, in all Palestine. Nobody doubts the 
genuineness of Machpelah. The separate and sometimes 
widely divergent streams of Moslem, Jewish and Christian 
tradition flow straight to its door in front of which, if 
nowhere else, their respective adorations intertwine. We 
entered the town with its old domed houses of stone and 
dark archways bridging the narrow streets, and soon be- 
came the targets of Moslem fanaticism for the display of 
which Hebron has ever been noted. The very boys, 
squatting beside their elders in the cage-like little shops 
of the bazars, hurled at us their juvenile curses. "There 
go the old devils," cried one. "I wish I was a man to 
cut their throats !" "Better put candles in their mouths !" 
exclaimed another, the Arabic euphemism for burning to 
death. Of course, we were not imprudent enough to take 
any notice of these insults, or make any retort which 
might provoke Mohammedan hostilhv^. Leaving our 
horses at the khan, we now started on foot to the rude 
structure dignified with the name of a "castle" and the 
official residence of the governor of Hebron. Our self 
imposed guides thither were the old Sheikh Hamzi, fa- 
miliar to the readers of Canon Tristram's "Land of Israel," 
and his two sons. The old man was to us exactly as 
Canon Tristram describes him, "oppressive in his atten- 
tions" — even painfully so. His dignity as Sheikh and 
his reputation among the occidentals were wholly crowd- 
ed out of sight in the prospect of backsheesh. What were 
fame and position to him, in comparison with a possible 
quarter of a mejeedif We tried more than once to shake 
off his company, but he would not leave us till we our- 
selves had left the town. Arrived at the castle, we were 
conducted through various courts and passages to the gov- 
ernor's reception room. Passing the portiere, at which our 



284 



Days in the East, 



native attendants removed their shoes, we found the mag- 
nate dressed in European clothes, but with the red fez on 
his head : and sitting at the farther end of a rickety table 
strewn with papers. He was a Turk of rather small stature 
and according to the fashion of his country, was diligent- 
ly engaged in smoking. On each side of the table sat 
one or two subordinates in Arab costume, likewise smok- 
ing and examining certain documents. Our lengthy salu- 
tations having been accomplished, we were asked to seat 
ourselves and were offered coffee and nargilehs, which we 
respectfully declined. This was followed by an offer of 
cigarettes which we also declined, apparently to the gov- 
ernor's surprise. An Oriental cannot understand a man 
who does not smoke. He is a sort of enigma, like the 
"teetotaller" to a German, or Italian peasant who drinks 
his wine as he does his coffee. At length, however, we 
succeeded in convincing the court that we had come on 
business which must be quickly despatched, if we were 
to see much of Hebron that night. We wanted one armed 
soldier, as the representative of the government, to accom- 
pany us over a certain road to Beit-Jibrin. The reply of 
the governor and his suite was that the Bedouins were 
unusually troublesome along the border and that, under 
no circumstances, could we go by that road at all. There 
was another road along which he would send us with an 
escort of not less than ten soldiers. TVe smiled at the 
proposal. There was too much backsheesh implied in it, 
by far. TVe said one would do. They asked us if we 
were not afraid. We answered no. and finally after some 
deliberation, not in Arabic, but Turkish — which neither 
of us understood — a reluctant consent was given to our 
departure. The military secretary, therefore, took a half 
sheet of paper and holding it in the palm of his hand, 
wrote upon it, as neatly as if it had been stiff cardboard 



Hoary old Hebron. 285 



the necessary order to the commandant of the gar- 
rison. 

Armed with this, we took leave of the governor and 
departed, Hamzi and his sons still acting as our escorts. 
Proceeding at once to the mosque which now covers the 
cave of Machpelah, we advanced a few steps into the pas- 
sage way, the limit beyond which no Jewish, or Christian 
foot, without the protection of the Sultan himself, is al- 
lowed to tread. Here there is a long deep aperture in 
the wall through which it is said your fingers maj^ touch 
the living rock of Sarah's tomb. We thrust in our arms, 
but what we felt inside could be left only to the imagina- 
tion. Into this opening, as into the chinks of the temple 
wall at Jerusalem the forlorn Jews of Hebron come and 
insert their well known written prayers. These petitions 
are inscribed upon little pieces of paper and sometimes 
enclosed in small rude envelopes and are then deposited 
in some appropriate holy place. The } T ounger son of 
Hamzi now thrust his irreverent hand into the aperture 
and brought forth from its innermost depths two speci- 
men of these prayers. I trust the authors will forgive 
me for having accepted and borne them off as curiosities. 
I carried them to Jaffa, and, with the aid of an educated 
Jew, succeeded in putting the modern Hebrew text into 
passable English. I venture to transcribe the results in 
these pages for the sake of those whom they may interest. 
Some of the petitions are unique. The first prayer is 
quite short. 

u Here it (the prayer,) is buried for the sake of the children 
of the Merciful Ones, through the merit of our forefathers, 
the Holy Ones, the Foundation of the World, who inhabit this 
cave of Machpelah, to awaken their pity in behalf of Shiba, 
the son of Hannah Bayley and his spouse, Hannah Ganachy, 
the daughter of Figail and Zipporah, that we may have the 



286 



Days in the East. 



merit to have sons and daughters. We beseech you that this 
year we may have a son. or daughter. We pray that we may 
have long to live and that the Lord may send us health both 
to soul and body. We pray that the Holy One may remember 
us together with the said child and that it may live and not 
die. as lie remembered our foreniother, Sarah. And through 
the merit of His universal righteousness which He spreads over 
all. and also on account of our own benevolent hearts, since 
we are helping the poor of the Holy Land, we pray that the 
merit of our alms may redound unto us in things both temporal 
and spiritual. We pray that we may have living children and 
the necessaries of life given to us and to all the children of 
Israel and that we may have the merit to see the re-building of 
His temple and the coming of His Salvation. Amen!" 

The second is from a school-master and is considerably 
longer. It is enclosed in a little rude envelope with the 
superscription : 

"To our holy forefathers. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. 
May their merits be with us always and may the aliens be 
expelled from the cave of Machpelah ! May it be returned 
to us in our time. Amen \" 

"Great peace to our forefathers, the Holy Ones, our father 
Abraham, the holy, hoary headed ; to our father Isaac who was 
bound upon the altar and to our forefather Jacob whose image 
was engraved on the throne of glory ! Peace to the fathers ! 
I come to you, the poor, the despised, the rejected man of Dav- 
id, that you may bestow your favor upon me and upon my 
seed. I beseech you to pray for me and for my sons, although 
I know of myself that I am not worthy to come to you. 
Who am I, to come near those whom the King of Kings de- 
lighted with his honor and through whose merits all the world 
exists ! And were it not for your merits and your prayers, it 
is impossible for us to live in this distressing captivity even a 
single hour : and every day and every hour and every instant 
vou are standing to jdead for us from your good hearts and 
we know that you pray for your children from your love of 
them and that you are desirous that the branch should be 
equal to the root — as it is written. 4 For I know that Abraham 



Hoary old Hebron . 287 



will command his children to keep the testimony of God.' 
And it is written (Talmud) 'whosoever will come to be puri- 
fied, shall he helped from heaven.' Therefore I came to write 
several lines of supplication to besiege your presence with ten 
petitions. To pray for me to our God, blessed be His Name ! 
to keep His favor upon me and upon my seed and upon my 
seed's seed until the end of the world. And that we may learn 
and keep and do and fulfill every word of the testimony of our 
law in love and that we may be endowed with great grace to 
do the will of God — blessed be His Name ! as He wishes us 
to do all the days of our life till the end of the world. And 
that there may not be found in us any fault or anything un- 
worthy, either in me or in my seed, but that we may be at- 
tached to God all the days of our life, and that we may be of 
them of whom it is said 'Israel, in whom I will be glori- 
fied.' So shall it be that we may not be ashamed, either in 
this world or in the world to come, that we may not be put to 
shame of you, nor you through us. And that there may not 
be in me, nor in my seed, either bereavement or barrenness but 
that God may fulfill our heart's desires, that I may not see the 
death of my sons and daughters, but their marriage and their 
prosperity. That I may rejoice in them and they may rejoice 
in me, and that we may not be cut off", either in years or days. 
That we may live eighty years, in order that we may be able to 
rectify the things wherein we have done amiss, and that we may 
not be disturbed through any creature. And that the evil one 
may not triumph over us, but on the contrary, that we may have 
desire of the law and of the precepts and of good doings for 
God's sake and without any other object. And that we may 
remember always what we learn and that we may not be de- 
pendent upon the gifts of man, but, through the rich, full and 
wide open hand of the Blessed One, may have grace and mercy 
in the sight of everyone who looks upon us. And that we may 
be pleasing to God and to His creatures and that we may be 
honored among the holy congregation. And that I may not 
be derelict in the profession which I have, of teaching the 
children. May God enable me to do it for His sake ! And 
among my pupils may not one be found whose " bread is burn- 
ing but may they be submissive to Heaven and listen to my 
words, and not be vexing me, but that I may rejoice in them 



288 



Days in the East. 



and they may rejoice in me. And may there be fulfilled in me 
the verse which saith, 'And David was prospered in all his 
ways and God was with him.' And also of Xoah of whom it 
was said, 4 And Xoah found grace in the sight of God.' And 
that the Lord may prosper me in the learning of the profession 
of slaying animals and that T may be clever in preparing my 
knife. I beseech you, my forefathers ! I know that I am not 
worthy to come to you. Therefore, I wrote you this letter, 
although it is not worthy. Therefore, forgive me and pray for 
me, through the merit of my forefathers, and for my children 
Jacob, Eleazar, Judah, Solomon and for my daughters, Sarah, 
Shhnha, Sahalah and Malchah, my wife, that we may be de- 
serving to live in the Holy Land, we and our seed forever !" 

Since admission into the mosque was out of the ques- 
tion, even gold itself being powerless for once, all we 
could do was to climb the hill at the back of the build- 
ing, from which we could step upon the roof of the 
mosque and look through a small window upon a section 
of the floor. That was all — that and a glimpse into the 
upper portion of the narrow court. We knew for a cer- 
tainty that we were directly over the famous cave — that 
the tombs of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and their wives 
were beneath our feet, but neither the one nor the other 
could we see. The ragged and dirt}' little urchins in the 
court could venture where our own infidel feet never could 
be planted. For 4fc the field and the cave and all that is 
therein" are now the property of the faithful children of 
the Prophet, who unmercifully beat and stone every Jew 
or Christian who aspires to a share in their own priv- 
ileges. Still the day may come when the mosque at He- 
bron, like the long-closed Mosque of Omar, will yield to 
the joint persuasion of European arms and European 
gold. 

We now descended into the bazars, where I purchased 
several of the anklets and bracelets of colored glass 



Hoary old Hebron. 289 



which are manufactured here for the wives and daughters 
of the Arab peasants. Pursuing our way at random 
through the dark and narrow streets, we came upon a 
place where a potter was working at his wheel. This was 
a familiar image of Scripture, but one which now rose 
for the first time to my own notice. We stopped and 
watched him as he went on with his work, skillfully 
moulding the clay on his rapidly spinning wheel. Sud- 
denly the pot which he was fashioning presented a flaw. 
It was quickly patched up again, but not before one of 
the lounging bystanders had exclaimed of us : " Thej'Ve 
spoiled it with the evil eye !" Of this " evil eye," what- 
ever it may mean, the Arabs are exceedingly afraid. In 
order to avoid its noxious influences, they hang amulets 
and charms upon themselves and their cattle, and mark 
their houses and trees with cabalistic signs. Sometimes 
these charms are simple little sacks enclosing a text 
from the Koran ; oftener they are made of beads and 
shells. The Bible itself speaks of these ornaments upon 
the camels' necks. One of these charms was even then 
hanging upon the neck of " Nellie," placed there by our 
servant, Aishee, at Jaffa, with whom the animal was a 
great favorite. It consisted simply of a bright colored, 
twisted cord, with a large blue glass bead and tassel ; 
and having been permitted to replace it by a new one, I 
now preserve it as a memento of my interesting journey 
through the South country. A Moslem mother will 
snatch her child away from a gaze too intent, and you 
must not admire it without exclaiming " Masliallali!" a 
word of praise to God and one supposed to be prevent- 
ive of harm. These superstitions sometimes present cu- 
rious phases. For example, the Syrian Arabs have, as 
a rule, a great respect for a European physician, and it 
is said that they will take a medical prescription and 



290 



Days in the East. 



have the patient simply lick the ink off the paper on 
which it is written. On the strength of this action he is 
snre to get well. 

Leaving the potter at his wheel we returned to the 
Man, refusing on the way the importunities of certain 
long-ringleted Jews who, darting out of their dark 
shops, besought us to turn aside and taste their Hebron 
wine. Here we resumed our horses, and rode out of 
the town by way of that ancient pool over which David 
ordered to be suspended the heads and feet of the mur- 
derers of Ish-bosheth. Close beside it stood a Moham- 
medan school house whose hum of study proceeded in 
the shape of a monotonous yell from a multitude of ju- 
venile voices. It was no doubt the usual concerted reci- 
tation of the Koran. In the rain, which was now again 
falling slowly, we said farewell to Hebron, and turned 
our faces toward the convent. The rain ceased, how- 
ever, before our ride was over, and as we reached the 
gate one foot of a huge, resplendent rainbow rested on 
the head of the Vale of Eshcol. As I went up into my 
chamber, I once more looked wistfully toward Hebron, 
veiled as before in its hovering cloud of thin blue smoke. 

We sat down to a dinner whose digestion was assisted 
by some of the same excellent wine for which we had no 
inclination to stop at Hebron. Our repast being over, I 
went down stairs to watch the vesper service of the Rus- 
sians, which was now in progress according to the Greek 
ritual, in the rooms below. It was a tedious and monot- 
onous service, and Mr. Floyd now joining me, we fell 
into a random conversation, through the medium of my 
friend's Arabic, with a sturdy black Bedouin guard. He 
was a Nubian, and so black that " charcoal would have 
made a white mark on him/' He was there in attendance 
upon a convoy of the pilgrims, over whom he had been 



Hoary old Hebron. 29 1 



deputed by the Russian Consul to act as protector from 
Jerusalem to Hebron and back. We spent a part of the 
evening rather ghoul ishly in listening to his tales of 
blood. He let us examine his sword which was slung 
over his shoulders by a thong of rawhide. It was one 
of the usual broad, slightly curved sabres, which I had 
so often seen at the side of many an Arab, as we came 
through the country, and had evidently been used in 
much active service. An idea crossed my mind, but I 
made no expression of it until I had gotten up stairs, 
when I sent Mr. Floyd down to purchase the sword from 
the shoulders of the Bedouin as a genuine and authentic 
curiosity. He soon returned with the weapon, but, as 
we heard next morning, its former ow T ner had mourned 
all night long because he had consented to part with it. 
It was u his trusty friend and brother," which he and his 
father had together carried for over twenty-five years, 
and no new one could be like it. "Did you ever really 
kill any one with that sword ?" Mr. Floyd heard a Rus- 
sian ask. "By the prayer of Mohammed," a most sa- 
cred oath, " I once cut down four men with it in one 
day," was the sturdj^ rascal's response. 



AS FAR AS BEIT-JIBRIN. 



Rain, as usual, the next morning. We stood after 
breakfast looking out of the convent windows upon the 
wet and dreary landscape, dismal and despondent. Our 
soldier had not come, though he had promised to be on 
Land betimes. As we found out after we had sent for 
him. he thought we "would not want to start in the rain." 
But he did not know us. The moisture might bedew our 
persons and dampen our pleasure, but all the same we 
proposed to sleep that night at Beit-Jibrin, twenty-five 
miles into the land of the Philistines. By nine o'clock 
we were winding our way once more among the vine- 
yards, our escort in cloak and capote and with gun slung 
across his back, riding on before. Leaving Eshcol. we 
turned into a deep and rocky gorge in whose wider parts 
we ever and anon came upon neatly tilled and fertile 
patches of soil. But vegetation was by no means rank 
in this region and the partridge covey which occasion- 
ally rose in alarm before our horses was. no doubt, sel- 
dom disturbed by invaders of its feeding ground. There 
was little, however, worth recounting in this section of 
our journey. Bye and bye. we came out into a green 
and lovely vale, where, looking back, we saw afar upon 
a hill behind us. another of the reputed tombs of ^soah 
and a rival of the equally fictitious one we had seen at 
Zahleh. The valley now grew broader, and from the 



As far as Beit-Jibrin. 293 



sides of its low bordering hills we heard the distant 
curses of the Moslem shepherds descending on our un- 
believing heads. We left the retorts, however, to our 
escort, who, though himself a Mohammedan, could not 
brook quietly any insult even to a Christian while under 
his protection and likely to reward substantially every 
display of zeal and devotion. And so riding on we came, 
in the middle of the afternoon, to Beit-Jibrin, the 
"House of Giants" and the ancient Eleutheropolis . It 
is now a miserable Arab village, but, like ever} 7 other 
spot in Palestine, has its own halo of interesting tradi- 
tions. It is by some regarded as the site of Libnah, the 
city besieged, first by Joshua, and then by Sennacherib, 
at the time when Rabshakeh, his cup bearer was insult- 
ing Hezekiah and his God before the walls of Jerusalem. 
Here, too, it is said that a fountain sprang from the jaw 
bone with which Samson slew the Philistines. There 
is a story besides, which connects it in some way with 
Ananias, who is said to have performed great wonders 
here. But doubtless such researches, as much for the 
reader as for the writer, are uninteresting to pursue. 

We rode straight to the house of the chief man of the 
village, and claimed his hospitality for ourselves and our 
horses. His residence we found to be very like a stable, 
standing among a collection of insignificant hovels, but it 
was a good theatre for vicissitudes, the things that spice 
and point all journeys of adventure. The lower part of 
the house was really devoted to horses and cattle although 
a circular group of Arabs occupied the centre of the floor, 
engaged in coffee-drinking and smoking. In the rooms 
overhead, reached by a rude stone staircase, lived the 
family of the Sheikh. Our luncheon was soon taken from 
our saddle bags and arranged for us on a sort of raised 
platform at the further end, where we ate reclining upon 



294 Days in the East. 



our rugs, and occasionally accepting the courtesy of a 
cup of coffee from the steaming little pot of our lounging 
neighbours. Meanwhile, two Arabs were amusing them- 
selves in the dark corner opposite us over a simple sort 
of game which they w r ere playing with acorns. These 
full-grown men, sitting on the floor opposite each other 
like a couple of boys, w r hile the rest were squatting lazily 
around and looking as if they never meant to get up again, 
were simple specimens of village life among the Arabs. 
Most of the men loaf and sleep and gossip all day long, 
what little work is done at all being done by the women. 
Necessarily their daily expenses are trifling, their food 
and raiment being of the simplest kind. 

While we were eating, all the while under the scrutiny 
of a score of curious pairs of eyes, one of the men, more 
pious than the rest, arose from his place and spreading 
a mat aside upon the floor, began his devotions toward 
Mecca. His companions took the whole thing as a mat- 
ter of course, not even looking at him as he knelt and 
fervidly petitioned Allah, but went on talking with each 
other precisely as before. Fancy the difference in degree 
of attention which would be excited by a man suddenly 
falling on his knees to pray in the crowded sitting-room 
of an American hotel. But, in apparent abstraction, he 
went on with his ascriptions and prayers and prostrations 
until Mr. Floyd, in the course of our talk, asked a ques- 
tion which no one else seemed able to answer. Then the 
devotee ceased his prayer, abruptly turned his face toward 
us, politely responded to our inquiry and immediately 
went on with his devotions. 

They are a curious people, these Arabs. They make 
no secret among themselves of their religion, such as it 
is. The name of Allah is forever on their lips. We, I 
suppose, should call it 6 f s wearing," though no doubt it is 



As far as Beit- fibrin. 



295 



intended by them for something less than profanity-. 
Some of the asseverations are curious. I once asked a 
merchant in Jaffa if he would give me a piece of paper in 
which to wrap an article which I had just purchased. 
His reply was, "By my eyes I will!" Their favorite 
asseveration in common talk is, however, u W Allah " 
"by Allah." As Dr. Thomson suggests, the cursing and 
swearing of Peter in his denial of Christ was doubtless a 
Bin to which he had not been unaccustomed, and as for 
the command of Christ to "swear not at all," it was, 
however necessary, one of the very hardest for an Orien- 
tal to obey. As concerns his piety the average Moham- 
medan may say his prayers in public more from habit, 
than for the purpose of being seen of men, but he is too 
often none the less a hypocrite. The pious talk in which 
he glibly indulges is mere smoothness of tongue. Some- 
times it becomes endurable and even pretty in its child- 
likeness. I found, one day on the beach at Jaffa, a cu- 
rious old tobacco box inlaid with silver. "God sends it," 
said our Arab servant, turning to me in triumph, after 
routing the last of two or three Arabs who, having seen 
me pick it up, followed me home, each swearing by Allah 
that the box was his. You ask a man what the weather 
is to be on the morrow. His reply, both sensible and pret- 
ty, is, "Such as Allah sends." If his child be sick, he 
will, in rnany cases, reject the suggestion of medical aid 
with the response, less pretty and sensible : "If Allah 
wills, the child will recover ; if not, he dies. Leave it 
with Allah r But this simplicity becomes less attractive 
when we learn that a gang of thieves overpowered in the 
act of robberj^, will just as naturally and piously throw 
up their hands and cry on Allah for protection. 

But we at length finished both our meal and our 
reflections. It was now time to visit the famous caves of 



296 



Days in the East. 



Beit-Jibrin, and, under the escort of at least two guides 
more than were necessary, we set out. We walked back 
of the village into a strange romantic sort of vale, where we 
were again treated to terms of opprobrium suited to shame 
and humble "Christian dogs" and issuing from the lips 
of a bevy of Moslem urchins. A feint made at them, 
however, scattered them right and left and turned hostil- 
ity into good-natured fun. In this valley we found ad- 
mission into several of the huge bell-like caves which are 
hewn out of the soft grey chalk of the hillside. The 
highest points of the ceiling in the different apartments 
were over sixt}' feet from the floor, and were furnished 
with open apertures through which the sunlight streamed 
broadly. These caves, it is thought, were once used as 
the dwellings of Idmumaeans and the Horim, but are now 
employed partly for the manufacture of gunpowder on an 
infinitesimal scale and largely as pens for goats and 
horned cattle. Here and there, we descried a legend 
running along the wall just beneath the vaulted, crumbling 
roof; and near by, perhaps, a cross sculptured in the 
chalk, pretty sure tokens that sometime in the past God's 
worship has arisen within these rude, but wonderful re- 
treats. 

Going thence upon one of the overhanging hills, we 
sat down to rest in company with our Arab escorts, one 
of whom was a nephew of Sheikh Hamzi of Hebron, whose 
family genealogy must be of ample size. From this we 
had an extensive view over the great plain of Philistia 
over which we were to ride the following day. But first 
we glanced behind us at Mar-HanncC 's ruined church 
standing near the site of ancient Mareshdh in whose val- 
ley King Asa fought and dispersed the Ethiopians and 
which also felt the hammer-hand of Judas Maccabaeus. 
Turning again toward the Mediterranean, we looked out 



As far as Beit-Jibrin. 



297 



upon the same scene which once met David's eye as he 
gazed forth from these self-same hills. It was a perfect 
sea of verdure in sharp contrast with the barren ravines 
through which we had lately come, and out of the middle 
of it rose the tell where once lay ancient Gath, a city of 
the Philistine Pentapolis and the birthplace of Goliath, the 
foe of David. To Gath also was sent the troublesome 
Ark of God which its captors knew not what to do with 
and there David, the refugee from Saul, pla} T ed the mad- 
man as a ruse to save his life before Achish, the King. 
But there were better and closer views of this region yet 
to come and I shall leave out, for the present, the details 
of the picture. One of our Moslem friends who had gone 
off to pray, albeit in fear that we would leave him, now 
returned from the spot where he had spread his mat so 
that he could watch and pray at the same time, and we 
all descended together. As we re-entered the town I 
caught sight of several native women at the doors of their 
hovels combing their hair — an occasional process only — 
with those rough wooden combs whose exhibition as cu- 
riosities so excites the merriment of their Western sisters. 



THE LAND OF THE PHILISTINES. 



After purchasing some old coins and antiquities for a 
fraction of the original prices asked by the natives, we 
retired again to our lodging-place and threw ourselves 
down on our rugs to rest. Our former friends were all 
there, awaiting our return. The}' had no where else to 
go, nothing else to do. It seemed that we were not alto- 
gether welcome in the village, however. The protection 
of the government, in the person of our escort and the 
knowledge that there was an American consul at Jerusa- 
lem, had considerable to do with our safety. We were 
in a region the more fanatical toward Christians, because 
tourists are so seldom seen there. Still our annoyances 
were fraught with more amusement, than alarm. They 
had stolen the barley from our horses and no woman in 
the village was willing, even for the coveted backsheesh 
to bring water for the animals of Christians. Here 
the soldier came to our aid. He ordered several women 
to bring the water forthwith, under pain of corporal 
punishment and then positively refused to allow them to 
accept the money which we still insisted upon offering for 
the tardy service. Presently in came half a dozen of 
those black Bedouins of sinister aspect, whom the Pales- 
tine traveler always prays to be delivered from meeting 
on the road, either by day or night. They wore long 
soiled quilted cloaks of some thick white material, from 



The Land of the Philistines. 299 



which shone their ebony faces and glaring eyes, and were 
armed with long heavy clubs. One of the group whose 
face haunts me still and whose uneasy e} r e Mr. Floyd and 
I both agreed to be that of a murderer, if we ever saw 
one, squatted down in a dark corner against the wall. 
One of his more loquacious brethren now informed the 
company that they had come up from Egypt and had 
that day walked over from Mejdel, near the coast. He 
then proceeded, although aware that Mr. Floyd under- 
stood Arabic perfectly, to discuss with much vehemence 
the interference of the English in Eg}~pt. We listened 
calmly enough to this blunt expression of his hatred for 
us and all of our blood and tongue, but I confess to some 
slight trepidation when the rascal rose from his seat and, 
going over to the circle of village Moslems, squatted down 
at the back of one who appeared to have some slight pre- 
eminence among his fellows. Then, whispering in his 
ear as I suppose the serpent sounded the frail woman in 
Eden, Mr. Floyd overheard him say, 4 4 What do you al- 
low these Christians to come among you for?" adding 
significantly, u No Christians ever come among us." For 
a moment I thought he might nourish disaffection and 
foment disturbance. But putting on a bold face outward- 
ly breeds inward courage, and we tried to act as if we 
had fifty soldiers instead of one at our backs. Still the 
knowledge that these desperadoes were to sleep that 
night under the same roof with ourselves — for there was 
no other whose free hospitality could be claimed by them — 
and in close proximity to our horses, abridged consider- 
ably our satisfaction and our slumber. Our only hope 
w r as that the villagers themselves would not lose their 
senses and commit any depredations upon us for which 
the entire village would have to be held responsible. 
At length we left both Arabs and Bedouins below, the 



300 



Days in the East. 



latter to their beds of straw among the cattle, and climb- 
ed the old slippery steps to the room which was to be 
our chamber for the night. We found it to be closed by 
a heavy, unglazecl wooden door, which could be fastened 
only by being braced inside. The sole window was like- 
wise a thick, wooden shutter, entirely guiltless of glass. 
There was no furniture whatever in the room, save an 
old hand-mill of stone in one corner. On the floor, how- 
ever, a couple of Arabs soon began, rather surlily, to 
spread carpets and rags for our bedding, inwardly curs- 
ing themselves, no doubt, for condescending to such a 
service for the Christians, It was now dark and our 
lamp was brought — a little, rough, tin thing, whose flame 
ended in a thick corkscrew column of black smoke. 
This was placed upon a projection from the wall just 
large enough to hold it, and with once refilling, managed 
to burn all night. The beds, such as they were, being 
made, we now threw ourselves into a reclining position 
on the unseemly heap ; and, although not hungry and 
with plenty of food yet remaining in our saddle-bags, 
awaited with some curiosity to see what the Arabs would 
send us up to eat. Presently it came, a most meagre 
meal. First, a dish of leben^ or curds of milk was 
placed before us on the floor. This leben, by the way, 
is the " butter' 1 of Scripture, the same which Jael 
brought forth to Sisera in her "lordly dish." Beside it 
were then thrown some half-dozen of the usual thin, 
round loaves of bread. This was a chance for " an ex- 
perience" while our appetites were under good control. 
So, for the sake of the thing, we formed part of a little 
circle, sitting on the floor and all dipping our sops of 
bread into the common dish in the centre ; the attitudes 
and action being the same as when the Lord Himself 
dipped His sop with Judas and the other Apostles. Af- 



The Land of the Philistines, 301 



ter the curious meal was over, of which we were careful 
not to partake too freely, we found ourselves confronted 
with a group of half a dozen Arabs who had brought up 
their narghilehs from below in order to have a visit 
with us before bedtime. Their conversation being slow 
and solemn, and we being thoroughly tired out, we were 
glad to see their courtesy in retiring immediately upon the 
suggestion of our guard that we might like to go to sleep. 
One of them, however, besides our escort, was to occu- 
py the room with us. So we all four lay down in our 
clothes and silence within soon reigned supreme. 

But our slumber was by no means unbroken. Without, 
it seemed as if every dog in the village was wide awake 
and doing his best to swell the dismal chorus of his mul- 
titudinous neighbours. Within, there was the anxiety 
over our doubtful fellow-guests below who might possibly 
get themselves into mischief and us into trouble. We 
awoke from our fitful sleep just before dawn, and found 
it raining heavily. With the first streaks of daylight our 
Moslem friend arose, re-trimmed the little oil-lamp and 
performed his ablutions. Then, spreading his mat on 
the floor and turning his face toward Mecca, he began 
his morning devotions. It was Friday, the sacred 
day of the Mohammedans, and his orisons being 
therefore of unusual length, the effort to rise and pray 
betimes put rather a severe strain upon his resolution. 
At frequent intervals he yawned and stretched sleepily, 
but so soon as his mouth had closed upon the gape, the 
words of the Koran came forth again as mechanically as 
ever. Certainly he was testifying unmistakably to his 
religious fervor, and as I lay and watched him I could 
not but give him credit for more sincerity than sometimes 
characterizes the disciple of the cross. Half an hour be- 
fore he had risen, I heard him make an audible exclama- 



302 



Days in the East. 



tion in Arabic, grunt and fall again to sleep. I asked 
Mr. Floyd the significance of his ciy. He said, "the man 
calls God to witness that he is 'a faithful servant.'* " And 
here he was, showing it in his own manner, not only with 
his lips, but in his life. When he had finished, it now 
being daylight, we ourselves arose from our restless 
couches and going to the door, had water poured from an 
ewer by an Arab over our hands to wash them, even as 
Elisha, the son of Shaphat once poured water upon the 
hands of Elijah. Finally we partook of a slight break- 
fast, got out our horses and were in the saddle soon after 
it was light enough to see to ride, and glad to bid adieu 
to our uncanny friends at Beit-Jibrin. We now pricked 
rapidly away over the broad, green plain of Philistia, our 
soldier leading and all keeping a sharp outlook for roving 
Bedouins. In various places, far and near, we saw their 
black tents dotting the hillsides, but were lucky enough 
not to fall in with any band of marauders. Often did we 
turn in our saddles as we rode further and further toward 
the sea-coast and look longingly backward at the empur- 
pled hills, the deep blue sky above and the brown, red- 
dish earth below, from which peeped huge masses of old 
grey rocks. Far to the south the e} T e swept over that 
vast country, now so desolate and under control of the 
wandering Arabs, where once Abraham and Isaac fed 
their flocks. Away down 3'onder lay Beer-Sheba with its 
seven wells, while farther over toward the sea and below 
Gaza once lay Gerar, the temporary home of Isaac. The 
history of the land began rapidly to unfold itself as we 
advanced. A short distance from the roadside we looked 
upon the scanty remains of Eglon, and further on, lay 
Lachish in a heap, both towns taken by Joshua in his 
wars, and the last the place where King Amaziah died 
at the hands of the conspirators of Jerusalem. Before 



The Land of the Philistines. 303 



Lachish also lay the great camp of Sennacherib before it 
was removed to Libnah which may not have been far off 
and somewhere on this plain it therefore was that the 
death-angel went forth to slay a hundred and eighty five 
thousand men. We rode on over the gentle swells appar- 
ently so fertile y et almost without inhabitant, save a hand- 
ful of sore- eyed and ragged Arabs who burrowed here 
and there amid the wretched hovels of a native village. 
"O Canaan, the land of the Philistines, I will even destroy 
thee that there shall be no inhabitant. " It is a prophecy 
whose fulfillment lies written in plain words all over these 
broad, green acres. And when we came to traverse, as 
we did the following da} r , the portions lying nearest the 
sea, the sites of mighty cities of the Philistines, the words 
of the context came even more vividly to mind. u For 
Gaza shall be forsaken and Ascalon a desolation, they 
shall drive out Ashdod at the noonday and Ekron shall 
be rooted up. And the sea-coast shall be dwellings and 
cottages for shepherds and folds for flocks." And the 
land of the Philistines lies, to this daj r , under the exact 
curse of the great Prophesier. 

At the hour of noon we halted for luncheon by a 
brooklet side, not far from the little village of Barer , 
whose lowly huts nestle rather picturesquely in a grove of 
palms. The palm, indeed, stately and magnificent as it 
is, goes a long way toward redeeming the unattractive- 
ness even of a few mud huts. We were now not far 
from Gaza, which we desired to reach in time to visit 
some of its objects of interest before the approach of 
night. So we were soon again in the saddle, completing 
the last stages of a rather weary journe} T , beguiled how- 
ever by the company of several Bedouins. These knights 
of the desert, mounted on their fall-blooded mares, 
were themselves on their way to Gaza ; but, under other 



304 



Days in the East. 



circumstances, might have been exceeding!}* unwelcome 
companions. " These polite fellows," said Mr. Floyd, 
i; are the very men who will rob 3-011 when they get a 
chance." At length we passed a venerable old oak 
which no traveler toward Gaza ever passed- without an 
admiring glance, and entered an almost interminable 
grove of olives. Long before we had gotten through it, 
there arose at the end of the broad, leafy vista, the mina- 
rets and palms of Gaza, the once proud cit}' of Philistia — 
to Palestine, the key of Egypt — to Egypt, the key of 
Syria. A blinding sun, the same that in midsummer 
drives the half-dozen European residents out of Gaza, 
and smites with various degrees of darkness the eyes of 
nine-tenths of the Arabs who remain, now came stream- 
ing into our eyes, and intensifying, even at the close of 
this January day, the disorder of vision which became 
the temporary penalty of my own residence in Palestine. 
We were glad at last to reach the shadow of even the 
low city walls, hemming in narrow streets, where our 
horses' hoofs splashed, right and left, the liquid mire. 
Gaza, externally one of the most picturesque, is intern- 
ally one of the uncleanliest cities of the East. It is un- 
necessary to say there are no sidewalks. Such things 
are unknown everywhere in the Orient. But in Gaza 
when we were there, there was not even a dry spot for 
the foot to rest upon. A fly might crawl in comfort 
along the sun-smitten walls, but the pedestrian must 
abide in his house or else wade through narrow, crooked 
lanes, swimming with mud and water and offal, whose 
odors were the loudest — admirable exponents of the san- 
itary- ideas of the Porte. 

But Ave found our way at length to the house of the 
Rev. Mr. Schapira, the missionary who so deservedly 
fills an entire chapter in Dr. Henry M. Field's work, On 



The Land of the Philistines. 305 



the Desert. I had met Mr. Schapira before at Jaffa, and 
as he was an old friend of Mr. Floyd, we were made 
warmly welcome in his hospitable home. Here is the cen- 
tre of the mission work in Gaza, where the missionary and 
his worth} 7 wife have many evangelizing irons in the fire, 
and manage to keep them all going. Some of the light 
needle work, wrought by Moslem girls in the mission- 
school, and of which I brought away some specimens, 
would not discredit the reputation of Occidental fingers. 
Besides the chapel with its services, now under the aus- 
pices of the English Church, there is a chemical room 
and dispensary whence go forth, as they should always 
do on missionar} T ground, the Bible and the art of heal- 
ing, hand in hand. There is also a society for the eleva- 
tion and instruction of Moslem women, one of the most 
necessary features of all successful mission work in the 
East. Soon after our arrival here Mr. Flo} T d came near 
having a fatal mishap. He had taken the horses to the 
khan, and was engaged in stooping down to adjust some- 
thing about one of them, when an unruly beast in the 
adjoining stall launched out in such a manner as to make 
sparks and mortar fly from the opposite wall. His hoof, 
in passing, left a small cut on Mr. Floyd's face just over 
the cheek bone. The miss was nearly as good as a mile, 
but it was a narrow escape from being brained, for which 
we were all devoutly thankful. 

It being some little time yet before dinner, we now took 
a walk or rather a plunge through the city streets, under 
the courteous guidance of Mr. Schapira. After a short 
journey we arrived, on the nearest edge of the town, at a 
place where a recumbent pillar is said to mark the spot 
whence Samson took the gates of Gaza. At some little 
distance outside rose the hill of Muntar which had al- 
ready been pointed out to me as "the hill toward Hebron" 



306 



Days in the East. 



on whose top the gates were left by the Israelitish Her- 
cules. We ascended a low neighbouring elevation which 
however was sufficiently high to admit of surveying at 
leisure the ancient city, amid its lovely gardens and cac- 
tus hedges and encircled by its enormous hills of barren 
sand. It was once the home of giants and the Anakims 
of whom, so far as I could see, no worthy scions now re- 
main. It was noted for its beautiful wells of clear water — 
precious treasures they must have been in that parched 
and thirsty country, with the great salt sea on one side 
and the interminable Egyptian desert stretching away on 
the other. To it came Alexander the Great three hunr 
dred years before the Christian era — and encompassed 
its walls — a siege which came near being made memora- 
ble by the death of the great conqueror himself. But 
now the proud old city has quite fallen from its ancient 
fame. It has been forsaken b}' God and b}' men of en- 
ergy and genius. It is a cipher in the world — a mere ag- 
gregation of slaves to dirt and disease, the down-trodden 
minions of a government whose head centre is the disgrace 
of modern Europe. 

Before going in I visited, under the care of a juvenile 
guide, the exterior courts of that beautiful mosque in 
which lie the remains of Hashzm, the grandfather of 
Mohammed. Several hours afterward, as I stood in the 
courtyard of the mission-house watching the rosy after- 
glow in the southern sky whose richness I have never 
seen paralleled even in Switzerland, there came floating 
upon the quiet evening air among the waving palm-crests 
the weird, solemn cry of the muezzin. It was nine o'clock ; 
but by the combined light of the brilliant stars of the 
East, and the reflection which still hung over the desert 
and the sea, I could clearly discern him as he paced the 
high balcony around the minarets of the mosque of Has- 



The Land of the Philistines. 307 

Mm, There was nothing new in that call to prayer. I 
had often heard it before. But never had there been a 
quiet evening hour like this, amid all the glow and splen- 
dor of tropical air and scenery, to send its half mournful 
intonations straight to my heart. May I be pardoned for 
the confession that, although well aware what Moslemism 
means when it is laid bare to the investigations of ration- 
al and enlightened minds, I yet could not help feeling a 
profound respect for a people whose ministers thus pub- 
licly call an entire city to bow and humble itself before 
the one true God, 



CITIES OF THE PAST. 



The contrast between our night's rest in Gaza and that 
of the previous night in Beit-Jibrin was extravagant. 
Our beds were clean and not preoccupied ; our sense of 
security sweet and undisturbed. We rose refreshed and 
went up stairs to breakfast with thankful hearts and keen 
appetites. Our obligations were great to Mr. and Mrs. 
Schapira for their kindhearted hospitality, the more so as 
they would receive no compensation for themselves. Un- 
der the circumstances I was therefore doubly glad to avail 
myself of the opportunity of making a contribution to one 
department of their work, in which eveiy Oriental traveler 
I think soon learns to take a special interest, namely that 
for the improvement of the condition of woman. 

Breakfast over, we mounted our horses and rode over 
to .the hill of Muntar whither the gates were borne by 
Samson. All along the streets, at that morning hour, 
our ears were greeted with the sound of the same rude 
mills such as I had seen before the Bedouin's tent on the 
plain of Huleh. Leaving the dubious windings of the 
city streets, we climbed gradually the steep ascent of 
Muntar from whose top we had a magnificent, though 
partly barren prospect with Gaza itself at our feet. We 
looked towards Egypt and traced the old historic route 
across the dreary waste by which armies and caravans 
and solitary travelers have passed for ages immemorial 



Cities of the Past. 



309 



between Africa and Asia. There, were the sands pressed 
by the feet of many a Pharaoh's hosts. There, was the 
desert over which Isaac often looked out, while he dwelt 
yonder in the vale of Gerar. There, ran the road back 
to Beer-Sheba, but considerably southward of our own 
recent line of march from Beit-Jibrin. There, was the 
broad, green, tenantless plain of Philistia with its wide 
fringe of sand-belts and the blue sparkling waters of the 
great sea beyond. And just below, amid its little oasis 
of palms, the greatest of those maritime cities of the past 
which once strewed the Philistine coast, but whose pres- 
tige has long since mouldered to nothing in the dust of 
centuries. 

From this elevation we may, as fitly as anywhere, pay 
a well-deserved tribute to the beautiful palms of Gaza, 
yet more numerous and beautiful than those of Jaffa. 
They stand around the foot of Muntar, not singly as w^e 
had often seen them in the court of a convent or a mosque, 
but in stately groves, throwing together their green fronds 
and thus springing leafy arches from the tops of their 
straight, grey pillars. Some of the finest similes of 
Scripture spring at once to the memory of him who looks 
upon them and he cannot but admire. Worthy were 
their leaves to strew the Saviour's way. Worthy are they 
now to arch the victor's grave. And where can the right- 
eous find a more comforting and inspiring vision than that 
in which it is promised him that he shall "flourish as the 
palm ?" 

We rode down by another route into the town and left 
our horses for a stroll through the bazars, which expedi- 
tion could only be managed on foot. But there was noth- 
ing worthy of particular note. Gaza is nearly as large 
as Jerusalem itself and its bazars are of corresponding 
size. But their character does not differ materially from 



Days in the East. 



those of other cities in the East. It was a sort of market 
day, however, and the ways were crowded with the usual 
array of bright and fanciful costumes. At one point in 
our journey Mr. Schapira took me to the doorway of the 
principal mosque whose interior, to my surprise, was that 
of a large, handsome Gothic church, unsurpassed b} T few 
of its size in any of the cities of Europe. It is a sight 
like this which kindles the indignation of the Christian 
traveler as he journeys through the East. Some day, 
surely, the Western powers will compel the Mohamme- 
dan to restore, if not the Holy Land itself, these sacred 
shrines which they have so profanely wrested from the 
hands of the Christians who built them for so different a 
purpose. This venerable church was erected so long ago 
that men are no longer certain whether to ascribe it to 
the Empress Helena, or the Empress Eudoxia. But 
there it still stands, a tine monument of Christian faith 
and architectural skill, though sadly exemplifying a per- 
version of uses. We also visited one of Mr. Schapira's 
mission schools where we found a courteous native teacher 
and an interesting group of children. As we passed 
homeward, the missionary pointed out a valuable piece 
of ground which he had secured in an eligible quarter of 
the city and whereon he proposes, so soon as the neces- 
sary funds are forthcoming, to erect a fine new church. 

At about ten o'clock, we bade farewell to our kind 
friends and rode out of the mission yard, taking our way 
through the town and across the sandhills toward the 
beach. We had been told that some old pottery was be- 
ing unearthed in a spot not far from the shore and prob- 
ably once covered by the ancient Gaza. On arriving 
thither, we found that the treasures consisted mainly of 
huge earthern jars which, no doubt, were of very great 
age. Some were broken, but others were quite perfect. 



Cities of the Past. 



We looked at them reverently for a moment or two — 
venerable relics as they were of a bygone time and race 
— and then rode pensively along the sandy, shell-paved 
beach toward Ascalon. Our only diversions during the 
ride were the watching of the sea-crab running sidewise 
over the* shingle, the venturesome gull sporting along the 
water's edge and now and then settling so near as to be 
immediately scared away b}- a shot from our revolvers, 
or admiring the snowy surf churning and foaming among 
the jagged, sea-worn blocks of lava. At length, after a 
ride of two or three hours, we saw before us the ruins of 
Ascalon, lying along their low historic ridge. As we 
drew nearer and mounted the sandbanks we looked down 
into that vast amphitheatre, fertile and yet deserted, but 
once covered with the grand streets and buildings of a 
mighty city. Fragments of marble and of massive walls 
and bastions were tumbled rudely about. It was all a 
wreck and ruin — the ashes of that great city which with 
others likewise unfaithful w^as compelled to drink the 
wine-cup of the Lord's fuiy . Among the rank vegetation 
which now effectually buries the debris I saw some pretty 
almond trees bearing their silver blossoms even now in 
the beginning of February and while sitting at luncheon 
beneath the battered walls, an Arab brought me some 
green nuts from the same trees. Here was another 
Scripture illustration. When Jeremiah saw the rod of 
an almond tree — symbolical of hast} T growth — the Lord 
said unto him, "thou hast well seen, for I will hasten my 
word to perform it." When the rods of the heads of Is- 
rael were laid up in the tabernacle that of Aaron brought 
forth, as these trees around us even now were doing, buds 
and blossoms and almonds all together. As we sat there 
we gazed up at the crumbling walls above our heads, 
with their hard, rough masses of mortar and sea-shells 



312 



Days in the East. 



and stone all mingled together and then, at the mean little 
village which now presides over the spot, amid numerous 
orchards and gardens whose beauty shames its own squal- 
or, and thought of the proud city of the past with its ed- 
ifices of shining marble flashing far out to the sea. What 
a history has Ascalon ! But the Syrian Venus'' has long 
since ceased to inhabit her ruined temple, although her 
sacred doves still coo among the ruins. Here the goddess 
Derketo had her fish in tanks, but now they swim no 
nearer the desolate site than the blue margin of yonder 
sea. Within these walls, now almost' buried in the drift- 
ing sand, did Richard the Lion-hearted hold his court. 
These sloping acres, destitute of a single modern house, 
given over to the culture of the apple and the onion, 
strewn with fallen columns which glisten beneath the 
hedges once was the prize of battles in which the onslaught 
was led by men like Richard and Saladin and Bibars, in 
many a fearful siege by land and sea. But these are the 
latest vicissitudes of its history suggested first, only be- 
cause of the wrecks which lie around. There are stories 
which connect it closely with the history of the stolen ark 
and with Samson who came hither to slay thirty men and 
despoil them of their garments in behalf of those who had 
solved his riddle. It was here, too, that Herod the Great 
was born. For well nigh thirteen centuries it has lain 
desolate, notwithstanding its great natural advantages. 
And should the time come when this sacred land shall 
be finally freed from Turkish misrule, Ascalon may again 
lift her head and become in future ages, as she has been 
in the past, a queen of the sea. 

We finished our after-luncheon siesta and rode off 
toward Mejdel bidding adieu to the sea-shore and striking 
a little way inland. The stork was stalking lazily along 
the edge of the neighbouring pond. The hot rays of the 



Cities of the Past. 



3*3 



noon-tide sun beat fiercely down upon our heads. But 
luckily the journey was not long and the scenery through 
which we rode reminded me somewhat — a great deal to 
sa} r — of the scenery of an English park. About the 
middle of the afternoon we entered Mejdel and rode 
through its muddy streets straight to the khan. We put 
up our horses and then set out in search of a lodging 
place for the night, which we w r ere fortunate enough to 
find in the house of one of the principal men of Mejdel. 
Here we deposited oar saddle-bags and accoutrements 
and then, it being several hours yet before dark, walked 
out to view the place. Bat there was little to see except 
the usual pools of mire and hard-looking houses. We 
stepped once into a weaver's room, of which establish- 
ments we found several on our route, and recalled Scrip- 
ture as we watched the mechanism of the beam and 
shuttle. Again, we glanced over the w&ll to see a Per- 
sian water- wheel irrigating some small garden, or through 
an open doorway at some motley crowd of villagers as- 
sembled for a little meny-making, but with much solem- 
nity withal. The bazars were closed at that hour of the 
day, not much to our regret, for they were unextensive. 
Mejdel is mentioned in the Book of Joshua under the 
name of Migdal-Gad and it was here that Pharaoh-Necho 
had a battle with the Syrians. 

At dusk we retired to our sleeping-room under the 
convo}' of our courteous, but rather unwholesome look- 
ing old host. The apartment was evidently the best in 
the house. It had a rude sprinkling of color on the 
walls, which were fairly lined in some places with rows 
of flat dishes, silver and brass, pewter and glass — his 
dining service on state occasions. But this was all the 
furniture, save the rugs and bedding on the raised por- 
tion of the floor. The old man treated us right royally, 



3H 



Days in the East, 



when consideration is bad to his surroundings and habits 
of life, bringing us roasted eggs and pickled olives and 
whatever else his own larder afforded and our saddle-bags 
did not. And rrhen we were done with our meal, he 
brought in one of his numerous family — a bright, un- 
washed, little boy, his favorite, and placing him between 
his knees sat on the floor and chatted with us socially. 
One of the bolsters he had given us for pillows was 
worked with very fine embroidery. Prefacing his re- 
marks with "May you not be reckoned among them!" 
he proceeded to inform us that this was the needle work 
of his own women. Thus Eastern politeness forbade his 
mentioning his guests and his wives in the same breath 
without apology. This deprecatory style is common with 
the Arabs. You ask a man how long his son has been 
dead, and his response is: "May it, (that is, death) be 
far from you ! — about three years." This old gentleman 
had, so he informed us, been the husband of three wives 
one of whom he had lately divorced because she had be- 
come the unfortunate mother of seven successive girls. 
At present he was the father of eight living children, 
three of whom, he "thanked Allah," were boys. The 
birth of a boy is at this day considered as much a subject 
of rejoicing as it was in Hebrew times ; while the birth 
of a girl is considered a sort of calamity. It is a re- 
proach to the mother and a disappointment to all. It is 
said that even now, as of old, vows are undertaken and 
prayers made in order to secure male children. And the 
first-born, when he comes into the world, immediately 
gives new names to every other member of the family in 
this wise. An old sheikh near Jerusalem had a first-born 
son Hassan and has ever since been called among his 
friends and neighbours, Abu-Hassan, "father of Has- 
san." His wife is Em-Hassan, "mother of Hassan," 



Cities of the Past. 



315 



while the younger children are "brothers and sisters of 
Hassan." Thus, too, Mr. Floyd, until the death of his 
only child, was known among the natives as "Abu- Alex- 
ander." The honor of primogeniture is supreme. 

When our host had retired, we turned down our lamp, 
said our prayers and composed ourselves to rest. We 
had told our entertainer of our warm reception at Beit- 
Jibrin, a story which he had been quick to meet with the 
assurance that we need expect no similar disturbance un- 
der his own roof. But, even as he spoke, I glanced scep- 
tically downward and saw at once that he was wofully 
mistaken. When I arose in the morning, my arms and 
my feet, for I had not dared to undress, had become viv- 
id reminders of my former experience at Mejdel-es-Shems. 
It was yet hardly daylight, but we cared to sleep no longer 
with such restless bed-fellows. Even at that early hour, 
as indeed all through the night, we could hear the sound 
of the grinding preparatory to the baking of the following 
day, and we were not long astir before our host with his 
lantern made his appearance at our door. We breakfast- 
ed, picnic fashion, on the floor, gathered our things to- 
gether and, lighted by the lantern, picked our way toward 
the khan where we had left our horses, the solemn morn- 
ing call to prayer coming to our ears through the glimmer 
of starlight from the neighbouring minaret. While Mr. 
Floyd attended to the saddling, I sat in the little hostelry 
watching one or two early risers drinking their tiny cups 
of hot coffee, or indulging in long drawn, gurgling pulls at 
the chibouque. All being ready, the lantern was again 
called into requisition for it was too dark yet to discern 
the mud holes in the narrow streets. By cautious naviga- 
tion and with the light to steer by, we safely reached the 
outskirts of the town, dismissed our attendant with a 
backsheesh and rode off toward Ashdod in the grey dawn 



316 



Days in the East. 



which was just now breaking. Our way still lay over the 
lovely green plain which we had traversed ever since turn- 
ing our backs upon the hill-country, and bye and bye we 
saw the sunrise gilding those same hills now at some dis- 
tance on our right. Presently it began to illumine the 
greensward all around us. over which, here and there, a 
solitary camel was slowly striding along. Between nine 
and ten o'clock we came within sight of the hill on which 
stood Ashdod of the Philistines now covered with palms 
and roofs of mud and sticks, green with the grass which 
carpeted every one of them even to its eaves. Below the 
hill is an old khan toward which we rode, where Mr. 
Floyd wished to point out to me an ancient sarcophagus. 
Thence we struck over the hill and through the wretched 
town whose site was once so famous. There is absolute- 
ly nothing left to see. Every trace, alike of the Acrop- 
olis and the fish-god's shrine has departed. The mound 
itself is nothing but the tomb of that mighty town which 
it took Psammetichus twenty-nine years to subdue. Here 
then, among the wastes of drifting sands, was once found 
Philip the deacon, preaching the gospel of Christ. But 
we had no inclination to stay. ^Ye did not even dismount. 
Of all the Philistine cities which now have even a shadow 

I 

of existence, Ashdod is certainly the most forlorn and un- 
attractive. 

We now began a weary, monotonous journey beneath 
the pouring rays of the sun. Our way lav across a broad 
stretch of level ground beyond which rose our objective 
point, the island-like hill of Yebna. We got there finally 
with no adventure save the occasional passing of a mount- 
ed Arab or two, and halted at the foot of the hill for rest 
and luncheon. Meanwhile a group of lounging villagers 
gathered round, some of whom began to make some in- 
sulting remarks in our presence. Somewhat to their sur- 



Cities of the Past. 



317 



prise they were readily repaid in their own coin by Mr. 
Floyd, who had understood every word, and never after- 
wards during our stay, dared to open their mouths. We 
afterward rode up through the village to the highest point 
of the hill whence we had a wide prospect over the plain. 

From here we had our best view of the city of Ekron 
associated with the hoty Ark of God and the place whither 
the King Ahaziah sent to inquire of Baal-Zebub, the God 
of Ekron. Over toward the sea la} r the harbor of Yebna, 
or Jamnia whose burning haven once threw its light 
abroad over the troubled waters. For here was another 
battle-ground between Judas Maccabaeus and Gorgias. 
Yebna, little worthy, as it looks, of its fame, was once 
also a famous seat of learning, the session-place of the 
Jewish Sanhedrim and as tradition says, the burial-place 
of Gamaliel. 

We descended, crossed the old Roman bridge over the 
neighbouring stream, pricked over the rolling acres until 
at last Philistia once more softened into Sharon's plain, 
and, in a few moments more, were again beneath the fa- 
miliar roof at Jaffa, I myself flushed with the satisfaction 
of having completed a journey full of instruction, if not 
entirely devoid of hazard, through the historic country of 
the South. 




FAREWELL TO JAFFA. 



Our time in Jaffa was now indeed growing short. A 
steamer for Egypt was daily expected. We hastened 
again to make our preparations for sailing, and gathered 
up the odds and ends of experience. We hired a camel 
in the khan and took a ride up and down the orange 
lanes so that we might know from experience what it was 
to mount the ungainly creature. We went by permission 
into the orange-groves of the German vice-consul and 
helped ourselves to the luscious fruit, afterwards bearing 
away as many of the bright, golden globes as our pock- 
ets would hold and hands could carry. Several oranges 
which I thus plucked were fifteen and sixteen inches, 
while one of the lemons was nineteen inches in circumfer- 
ence. This particular^ grove is thought to cover part of 
the remains of Solomon's harbor. It is a half mile from 
the present coast-line, has a basin-like shape, and some 
old anchors are said to have been dug up there. There 
are also several memorials of Napoleon, left there by his 
retiring host, in the shape of one or two old cannon. 
We went to visit the jail at Jaffa where prisoners, inno- 
cent and guilty, are alike confined under the discriminat- 
ing eye of Turkish law, and left to starve, save as their 
friends bring them food, or as they share it with each 
other. We visited Mrs. Hay's mission-school for the 



Farewell to Jaffa. 



319 



last time, attended our final service in the little English 
chapel where I had had the privilege of preaching, and 
inspected Miss Mangan's medical hospital, one of the 
best institutions of missionary work in all Syria. The 
morning we were there, Miss Mangan assembled her little 
group of applicants for medicine in the little room which 
serves for a chapel, and read and expounded the Scrip- 
tures in Arabic, which she has mastered perfectly. Af- 
ter this, the medicines were given out in the dispensary, 
and operations were attended to in the surgical room. 
We adjourned to the latter where we found a sturdy, 
black Bedouin, who had already attracted our notice 
during the service by his blood-stained 'aba and smoth- 
ered groans. He had been in a fight with four men who, 
he asserted, had stolen his goods, and he had come out 
of the scrimmage with his right hand half hacked off at 
the wrist by one of their blunt and murderous swords. 
During the process of dressing the wound, even his 
stolid Bedouin endurance proved unequal to the pain, 
and having a natural horror of such operations, I was 
soon fain to desert the room and seek the open air. We 
pitied the poor fellow, but it was impossible to rid our- 
selves of the suspicion that he had himself laid low 
man} r a man in his lifetime, and that the rest of his ca- 
reer, should he recover, would be spent in thirsting for 
the blood of his assailants. 

At night we walked upon the balcony looking out, for 
the last time, upon the same clear and starry sky which 
David saw from his house-top at Jerusalem. For several 
evenings, we could discern the broad nucleus of a comet 
which w^as at that time visible in the East. But we 
could see comets at home and so we turned lovingly 
towards Judaea's hills bathed in the soft moonlight and 



320 



Days in the East. 



watched the waving branches of the palms which, even 
in the brilliancy of night, 

"Raised their stately hearts on high 

And spread their feathery plumes along the sky," 

for upon these things we should probably never look again. 

The Jaffa colony is not without its band of musicians 
and on frequent evenings in the week the soft music, so 
suggestive of home, would come floating upward along 
with the aromas of the orange groves and the deep, sweet 
murmur of the sea. To all these influences, natural and 
artificial, we were soon to bid adieu, and it was not with- 
out a deep feeling of regret that the reflection crossed our 
minds. We should miss the chirp of the little sparrows, 
sitting and flitting about our own house-top ; and even the 
piercing screams of the jackals on Sharon's plain, which 
startled the wakeful among us during the solemn night- 
watches, or the early brayings of the patient little Syrian 
donkeys— sounding like a rip-saw among splintered boards 
— would soon cease to be remembered as nuisances. 

We took our last walk on the sea-shore whose image 
now rises to my mind and even sends a nostalgic tremor 
along niy pen. It was the margin of waters which were 
laden with associations of Scripture and history. These 
were waves that had tossed alike the ships of Solomon, 
of Xerxes, of Pompey, of Augustus, na} T , greater than 
all the rest, that humble corn-ship of Alexandria whose 
precious burden was the saintly Paul. But it was not 
for these things and things like these that we loved it. 
We were attached to it for its own sake. We had trav- 
eled many a mile upon it and were to travel many more. 
We had loitered upon its sea-walls, sipping coffee in the 
bland warm air of January, and watching the snow-white 
gulls rocking on its billows. We had ridden at noon on 
its gentle swells watching the snow of the distant hills of 



Farewell to Jaffa. 



321 



J udasa and Samaria — the green vines upon Simon's house 
and the half hidden, moss-covered rocks of the dangerous 
harbor. We had seen it in calm, we had seen it in storm. 
Nowhere else should we behold such snowy surf hiding 
the cunning shark beneath its foam, beating in never-dy- 
ing music high up the smooth and shelly strand, and 
sending perpetual clouds of soft mist aloft into the quiet, 
balm}- atmosphere of an Oriental winter. Nowhere else 
could we again expect to see the sun sink to his rest 
amid such royal tints of cloud and sky, hues which, if 
successfully transferred to the canvas of the painter, 
would condemn him for unnaturalness and artistic hy- 
perbole. 

Again we strolled down into the market-place where 
were arrayed for sale, the round piles of dark coarse 
bread, pungent cheeses, malodorous fish, colored sweets 
and fruits, lemons, oranges, huge yellow citrons and sugar 
canes ; where Bedouins and villagers crowd together and 
coal-black Nubians, sit and gossip over their coffee, chi- 
bouques and cigarettes ; where you hear all possible varia- 
tions of the harsh unnatural tones of which the Arabian 
gamut is composed ; where poverty and dirt and fell dis- 
ease mingle with flowers and fountains, fruits and songs ; 
where all artisans and merchants sit and never stand at 
work. How different an appearance did it present by 
daylight from what it wore by night ! We crossed it one 
evening only a little after ten. There was no light to be 
seen, save that of a lantern in the hand of our attendant. 
The whole square and its neighbouring avenues were as 
dark as a pocket. Not a stranger did we meet. Not a 
footfall could be heard. 

In and around this market-place and the bazars which 
lie immediately adjacent, we had repeated chances to 
observe many little points of interest and instruction. 



322 



Days in the East, 



The scribe with his inkhorn of brass and his paper rest- 
ing on his palm ; the k ' possessed" roan in his jacket of 
sheepskin with the wool turned inside : the prisoner with 
a rope around his neck, marching in front of the officer's 
horse on his way to jail ; the shrewd merchant, squatting 
on the floor of his little I30X of a shop : the veiled wom- 
an of the higher class, daintily picking her way on the 
Jcubkobs. through the muddy streets — these were some of 
the characters which greeted as from day to day. As 
we traded in the bazars it was cnrions to see how loose 
and uncertain are the methods of business. Long and 
tedious bargaining has to be made with the Oriental mer- 
chant, even when buying a mere trifle. We were one 
day purchasing each a silk kefftyeh, as a part of the 
Arab costume which we proposed to send home among 
our curiosities. The keen-eyed old Moslem with whom 
we were negotiating put his prices up to suit the sup- 
posed plethoric purse of a' Frank, and we of course tried, 
as every one must do who does not care to pay twice the 
value of an article, to beat him down. At last the im- 
patient old shop-keeper, with an assumed Took of dis- 
gust, said : ;i take it for nothing !" which meant as much 
to us as the " i give it thee" of Hamor to Abraham 
when the patriarch sought to purchase the field of Mach- 
peiah. All the goods in the shop you pause before are 
"yours." You may take them freely, even as "pres- 
ents." But woe be to you, if you consider this courte- 
sy literally without planking down a good round equiva- 
lent in gold. TTe took our keffiyehs^ not ;i for nothing." 
but for a sum probably at least a third larger than 
would have been paid by any of those swarthy sons of 
the desert who wear these things upon their own heads. 

The prisoner who is sometimes seen walking in the 
streets, bound and leading the horse on which his 



Farewell to Jaffa. 



323 



captor sits, calls up sundry reflections on the majesty 
and discretion of Turkish law. A criminal, even though 
he be a murderer, cannot and must not be slain in the 
effort to capture him. He must be taken alive, or not 
at all. While in Jaffa I was told that, several years ago, 
a Bedouin happened to meet, in the market-place of that 
city, a man with whom he had long been in deadly feud. 
He resolved to wipe out the score once and forever with 
blood. He therefore unslung his long rifle and ordered 
his unarmed enemy to pace slowly before his own horse 
until they reached the outskirts of the city, where he 
shot him dead in his tracks. Meanwhile the scores of 
people who had witnessed the scene suspected the de- 
nouement, but dared not interfere. A detachment of 
four soldiers was sent out to capture the offender. They 
found him by the roadside, coolly taking his dinner. As 
they approached, he threw down his bread and laid his 
hand upon his gun, bidding them remember that u Allah 
was between himself and them." They were forbidden 
to fire upon him. To advance, at least for one of them, 
was certain death. They turned back dismayed, and 
the culprit was soon riding off, never to be heard of 
more. 

This regime, by its own policy, teaching robbery and 
murder ; through its rapacious tax-gatherers setting an 
example to thieves ; blighting everything good which it 
touches ; and to the minds of whose supporters the 
science of good government is a 44 continent of mud," 
connives at certain other acts of lawlessness on the part 
of its subjects which it is hard to believe. Open licen- 
tiousness it crushes out with an iron hand, and such 
a thing is hardly known throughout Palestine. The 
present pacha of Jerusalem was partially educated in 
Paris and other cities of Europe, and he is said to have 



324 



Days in the East. 



remarked, in the hearing of those who recounted his ob- 
servation to me, that he deprecated the introduction of 
European civilization into Jerusalem, on the ground that 
it would make the people so immoral. Such an objection 
from a nation of polygamists must strike a Western 
with surprise : but it still remains a fact that London 
and Paris and Vienna nourish institutions which would 
not be tolerated for an hour in an}' city under Moslem 
rule. So much for the credit of the East ; but, if some 
of the stories which were related to me in Jaffa be true, 
their ideas of chastity are supported and enforced by 
most inhuman acts. With these incidents I shall not 
sully my pages. But it is said to be a fact, scarcely cred- 
ible, that guilty women have been visited with the fate 
described in the sixteenth verse of the thirteenth chapter 
of the Prophecies of Hosea ; and father and brother 
thus striking them down, have washed their hands in the 
victim's blood in order to wipe out the family stain in 
the eyes of the onlooking populace. A father gave his 
guilty daughter the choice of dying by his hand or 
drowning herself, and the next day her lifeless body was 
found in one of the streams of Lebanon. Adultery 
is punished by murder and the rod ; a broken chastity is 
but the precursor of: death, and in such cases it is said 
the law will not interfere. 

At Jaffa one day, I saw the only Moslem wedding pro- 
cession that it fell to my lot to witness while in Palestine. 
Its approach along a neighbouring street was heralded 
by a loud series of monotonous chants and laughs and 
hoarsely sounding drums. As it drew nearer to the cor- 
ner where I paused to see it pass, -I .beheld a long and 
motley concourse of men, women and children all ad- 
vancing with slow and measured steps partly walking, 
partly dancing. Their various costumes were bright-hued 



Farewell to Jaffa. 



325 



and fantastic. In the van walked the bride and her at- 
tendants, she clad in white with a veil of pink over her 
face. Immediately in front of her, two young men bore 
a couple of swords completely sheathed in flowers and 
with their points touching each other in such a manner as 
to form an arch. Behind, came several muscular Arabs, 
each with some large article of furniture upon his back, 
and supported by the usual thick strap brought over and 
across the forehead. These pieces of furniture, betoken- 
ing a wedding of the higher class, were also richly be- 
decked with flowers. In the rear followed the joyous 
rabble, shouting and singing and clapping hands. The 
whole proceeding looked very much like the sport of chil- 
dren, yet it would have made, with its surroundings, a 
quaint subject for an artist's pencil. 

At Jaffa, too, I saw more than elsewhere of the Mos- 
lem funeral. It is a mournful affair and yet it is a sort 
of pageant in its way. The corpse is placed on a rude 
bier, draped sometimes wuth some colored cloth and is 
carried high on the shoulders of the bearers. If the de- 
ceased be a male his fez is also borne aloft upon the cof- 
fin-pole. Before the corpse go the hired mourners raising 
their doleful and monotonous chant, as I had heard it in 
Nablous, u La Allah, ilia Allah! W Mahammedhu russul 
Allah!" "There is no God but God ; and Mohammed is 
the prophet of God." This is sung over and over again, 
until the grave is reached, the words meanwhile being ac- 
companied with a confused clatter of drums and tambour- 
ines. On arrival at the cemetery, a sheep or ox is some- 
times sacrificed, and a feast made ; but, if it be a funeral 
of the humbler class, the body is taken from its wooden 
coffin and lowered without ceremony into the sepulchre 
which is afterward heavily weighted with stones — no un- 
necessary precaution in this land of jackals and hyenas. 



326 



Days in the East. 



There is much fanatical exclusiveness among the Moslems 
in regard to tombs, as the European residents in Jerusa- 
lem can feelingly attest. A Mohammedan does not be- 
lieve that death levels him with a Jew. or Christian, and 
he will not sleep his last sleep anywhere in their neigh- 
bourhood, if he can help it. But this exclusiveness is 
not peculiarly Arabian, nor is it a matter of either time 
or space. TTe have heard of it in the other hemisphere ; 
and. as for antiquity, it was no new feeling in Abraro's 
own day, as witness his earnest desire to secure, and 
make sure Maehpelah with all its appurtenances. A 
Mohammedan cemetery, like the extensive one along the 
sea-shore at Jaffa, presents a curious scene on Thursday 
evenings and Friday mornings. These are the times 
when the spirits of the dead are thought to revisit their 
earthly tenements and hither come the Arab women, all 
clothed in white, to converse familiarly with the imaginary 
forms and perchance to recite a few verses from the Ko- 
ran. There is nothing more striking, until one has seen 
it often enough to make it no longer a novelty, than a 
crowd of these veiled figures in white, flitting hither and 
thither among the high stone sepulchres. 

At last, one morning, a crier went about the city streets 
announcing to every one concerned the joyful news that 
the French steamer, due the next day from Beyrouth 
would proceed with passengers and cargo to Port Said. 
The quarantine had now been on seven months. Not a 
steamer had proceeded toward, or come from the south. 
They came down the coast as far as Jaffa and then turned 
and went back to Haifa, or Beyrout. Consequently this 
was an event. AVe waited anxiously. The weather 
changed and the white-caps began to cover the sea. All 
night it blew and in the morning the waves were dashing 
high up the beach. Sure enough the steamer came, but 



Farewell to Jaffa. 



327 



all to no purpose. She plowed heavily through the waves 
towards the customary anchorage about a mile out from 
the rock-bound harbor which is one of the worst in the 
world and too dangerous to approach save in smooth wa- 
ter. Just as she rode over it, the gusts seemed to in- 
crease. No boat dared venture out to her and there was 
no immediate prospect of the storm abating. The flag 
at the stern ran up and down again. It was "good-by" 
to Jaffa. Her head was turned toward Egypt and in a 
couple of hours she became a mere speck on the southern 
horizon. 

It was a great disappointment, but it could not be help- 
ed. The very first chance of departure was a sacrifice to 
wind and weather, but at least we knew now for certain 
that we could go to Egypt, instead of going home by the 
back track. The next steamer was the Russian. She 
came two days afterward and the sea was smooth. We got 
read} 7, for the last time, said a long good-bye to our many 
kind acquaintances in Jaffa whose memory we shall ever 
hold dear, and, enriched with the experiences of just one 
hundred and nine days' residence in Syria, jumped into a 
boat with our bags and baggage and, threading the narrow 
passage through the reefs, were rowed swiftly to the 
steamer. 



THE LAND OF THE PHARAOHS. 



It was nightfall before we weighed anchor and began 
to bear away for Egypt. When the hour of departure 
came, I took my stand at the rear end of the spar-deck 
and watched the shore as it gently faded from sight. A 
few minutes later, an uncouth Russian pilgrim in his heavy 
great coat stood beside me in the moonlight engaged in 
his parting devotions. His face was set toward Jerusa- 
lem and the sacred shores so fast receding. As he prayed, 
he bowed low with his forehead to the deck and seemed 
visibly affected. It was his last sight of the Holy Land, 
no doubt, even as it was my own ; and the spell rested 
on us both. I sympathized with him in his tearful rev- 
erence and affection. There was a treasure there behind 
those dark and distant hills which I hated to forsake. 
Dear, degraded, old Jerusalem, trailing her rich robes in 
the dust of ages, had taken a strong deep hold upon my 
heart, and it was with moistened eyes that, sajing a final 
good-night, I went below and sought my stateroom. 

The wind rose during the night, lightning danced along 
the horizon, murky vapors flitted hither and thither across 
the sky, and, as the breeze freshened, the steamer rocked 
most unmercifully. The morning found every cabin pas- 
senger, except myself, absent from breakfast, and the 
mere sight of such a number of empty covers, suggesting 
that I had no right to be there at the table alone, soon 



The Land of the Pharaohs. 329 



diminished my own courage and compelled me to beat a 
hasty retreat. By mid-day GifTord and the rest were 
around again, but little the worse, and we all went on 
deck to get our first glimpses of the land of the Pharaohs. 
We found ourselves lying just outside the harbor of Port 
Said, close to the entrance of the famous Suez Canal. We 
had made several pleasant acquaintances on the steamer, 
among them Mr. and Mrs. Robertson of the Transvaal in 
South Africa, w T ho afterwards became again my traveling 
companions, and now, uniting our fortunes, we all ran 
together the gauntlet of another Eastern custom-house 
and took up our quarters at the hotel. 

Port Said is a bus}' little place and probably, in pro- 
portion to its size, one of the wickedest in the world. 
Gambling houses and groggeries and bagnios seem to 
rule the day. An English lady with whom I fell into a 
few minutes' conversation at the hotel had devoted herself 
to the effort of starting a mission chapel in the place and 
I know of no field where the leaven of the Gospel is more 
needed. The shipping lying at the mouth of the canal, 
hailing as it does from both hemispheres, is a study in 
itself. The flag of England was, as usual, in the ascend- 
ant at the mast-head, and several of the pennants drooped 
over the decks of men-of-war. The "Monarch, " one of 
the splendors of the modern British fleet, rode at anchor, 
but a short distance from the quay, making a prettj r pic- 
ture with its middies and marines thronging the deck and 
the commander in his well-manned boat just returning to 
it from the shore. The presence of these ships of war as 
well as the numerous troops which we afterwards saw in 
the streets of Cairo were significant reminders of the 
Mahdi and of Egypt's evil day which seems to have no 
ending. 

But we ourselves tarried but a few hours in Port Said. 



33° 



Days in the East. 



Leaving Mr. and Mrs. Eobertson to follow us the next 
day. Gifford and I set out again at midnight on the day 
of our arrival. The moonlight sail along the canal from 
Port Said to Ismailia. which we reached at six in the 
morning, was one of the experiences which I shall never 
forget. The steamer was small and crowded and as 
there were no accommodations for sleeping. I preferred to 
sit out on the narrow deck until between one and two 
o'clock, when the intense cold of the night air drove me 
below. It was a bright, clear night and every object 
along the banks was clearly visible as we sped along, 
having a continent on either hand. The shores of the 
canal are. however, void of interest, being for the most 
part mere heaps of earth and sand sufficiently high to 
prevent you from seeing what is beyond them as you go. 
Every now and then we would glide below the hulk of 
some huge, dark steamer, motionless in the moonlight 
and waiting only for break of day to pursue her course 
southward to India and China, or northward to London 
or Marseilles. Frequently the channel of the canal 
broadens out into a large, flat lake or marsh. But of 
much of the scenery, such as it is, between Port Said 
and Ismailia I cannot speak on personal testimony, the 
bulk of the night having been passed, with indifferent 
success, in attempts to sleep on the narrow sofa in the 
cabin. 

An hour after day break we stepped ashore at Ismailia 
and went to breakfast at the hotel. Here we had to wait 
until eleven o'clock for the train to Cairo. As there is 
nothing of importance to see in Ismailia. we spent the in- 
terval of delay in a random stroll or two. and in sending 
short messages to friends at home. When we came at 
last to board the train for which we had purchased sec- 
ond-class tickets, we found that we were in a carriage far 



The Land of the Pharaohs. 33 1 



inferior to those of the third class on European railway's. 
As for the third class on these Egyptian trains, the car- 
riages are, in fact, mere cattle pens, while the first class, 
high priced as it is, is itself barely decent enough for the 
occupation of ladies. However Gifford and I, having no 
one else to consider, made the journey with tolerable 
comfort in spite of the heat, narrow windows and un- 
cleanly crowd of fellow-passengers gathered from every 
corner of the universe. Greek, and French, and En- 
glish, and Arabic, and German, and what other tongues 
I know not, rattled back and forth from end to end of the 
open car. Everybody smoked who chose to do so. 
Nearly everyone had some kind of a luncheon, a curiosi- 
ty in itself, to eat, and scrupled not to strew the floor 
beneath his feet with the remnants, while all used, when 
possible, their apparently undoubted privilege of turning 
the cushions into footrests, and the aisle into a decidedly 
slippery and uncertain promenade. Things like these 
indeed may possibly indicate the sort of accommodation 
necessary for such a country and such a people. We 
rolled on, or rather jolted along, over fields of sand 
with here and there a canal or ditch, and past the typical 
Egyptian village, which is so much worse than that of 
Syria and Palestine, that the depictive power of language 
wanes and dies in the effort to describe its squalid ness, 
and finally sped across the edge of the vast green delta 
of the Nile. As we went over the battlefield of Tel-el- 
Kebir my eyes rested upon more than one bleached skele- 
ton of slaughtered war-steeds, while in the little ceme- 
terj 7 the upright head-stones kept their mournful watch 
over scores of English graves. And now we began to 
see the wonders worked by that grand river which has 
made Egypt what it is, the ancient nursery of learning 
and culture, the teacher to the world of Art and Science, 



332 



Days in the East. 



the land which first gave definite shape to human thought. 
For, but for the Nile, all Egypt would be desert still ; 
those plains, clothed in the deepest hue of emerald, mere 
wastes of brown and burning sand. 

It was curious to watch the peculiar figures and feat- 
ures of the landscape as we rode along. The fellah was 
working his shadoof on the banks of the dykes and 
ditches, busily engaged in irrigating his crops. The 
great shaggy buffaloes, with their ram-like horns bent 
downward and backward, were here and there slowly 
drawing the rude plough behind them, as they did long 
ago in Pharaoh's own time. The weary kine were laving 
their heated sides in whatever pool, left by the retiring 
Nile, afforded them the opportunity. Swarthy men and 
women strode to and fro in sable robes and with solemn 
mien, among the narrow alle}~s of their mud villages, or 
beneath some neighbouring grove of state!}' palms. We 
found much to attract our interest, alternately looking 
out of the window and musing over the aged countrv 
through which we were traveling. Even the petty 
swindle of the restaurant keeper at Zag-a-zig who charged 
us an English sixpense for a single bun, for which even 
the conscienceless "Restaurant de la Madeleine" in Paris 
would have blushed to ask more than four sous, did not 
much disturb our equanimity. But we were glad, never- 
theless, when the numberless domes and minarets of 
magnificent old Cairo came in sight — and when, de- 
scending from the train, we caught our first glimpse, as 
we rolled off to our hotel, of the PjTamids of Ghizeh, 
looming afar on the plain through the dreamy and misty 
air. 



CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 



A large Oriental city is a difficult thing to describe in 
detail, and Cairo is no exception to the rule. The mul- 
tiplicity of novel features which characterize its streets 
and bazars, its numberless mosques, its curious old sub- 
urbs, its broad, historic river, its proud monuments of 
antiquity lying within a day's march on every side of it, 
all paralyze the pen which thinks to put them together in 
a single chapter and compel me, albeit unwillingly to 
deal in generalities. Cairo is greater, grander and more 
impressive even than Damascus. I had rather, a thou- 
sand times, look clown upon it from the parapets of the 
citadel, than scan the city which Mahomet so extrava- 
gantly praised, from u the dome of the camel-driver." 
This point of view on the citadel became my favorite re- 
sort, during my week in Cairo, and I never tired of gaz- 
ing upon a scene where the handmaids, not of nature 
only, but of hoary historj 7 also, came trooping forth to 
beautify and enhance the interest of the scene. Reflect for 
a moment upon what you look — the largest city of Islam, 
with the domes, towers and minarets of four hundred 
mosques, heaving themselves aloft from a thickly-crowded 
mass of habitation whose wealth of color embraces every 
Oriental hue and shade — the entire city itself, within its 
circle of verdure, the chief pearl upon the handle of the 
immense emerald fan formed by the delta of the Nile — 



334 



Days in the East. 



the vast, green plain itself stretching away between two 
immense deserts, the Arabian on the right and the Lib- 
yan on the left — the mighty river of Egypt slowly rolling 
its broad, sweet current to the sea — the gigantic outlines 
of the pyramids, those of Ghizeh terminating the long 
avenue of lebbeks which leads thither, and those of Sak- 
hara ranging like mighty sentinels along the misty hori- 
zon — behind, the hills of Mokattem, with their uncouth 
sand ridges and the picturesque tombs of the caliphs and 
the Mamelukes at their feet. These are the leading feat- 
ures of a view which you ma}' spend hours in studying 
and in your attachment to which no other city outside of 
Europe will be likely to make you waver. 

In Cairo the curious and the quaint in architecture 
closely intermingle with the magnificent and the rich. 
Its chief edifices are undoubtedly its mosques with which 
those of Damascus will not bear comparison. One of 
the most superb is the Alabaster Mosque of Mahomet Ali 
whose magnificent yellow pile sits in queenly grace above 
the citadel and sends its two needle-like minarets high 
into the air. In some respects this is even a more im- 
pressive building than the Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem. 
But it is new and has no history. For venerableness we 
must go to the mosques of Sultan Hassan, of Tayloon, 
of Amrou, to which we shall presently descend. 

The citadel of Cairo is a strong fortress, and at the 
time of my visit, was garrisoned by the troops of En- 
gland. The trouble with the Mahcli had indeed filled both 
streets and fortress of the city with foreign troops and 
made the sound of the English tongue more familiar to 
me in Cairo than an}' where else abroad, outside of the 
British dominions. As we moved about in our examina- 
tion of the citadel and its curiosities, the Scotch bagpipes 
were to be heard constantly among the barracks. We 



Cairo and the Pyramids. 335 



visited that deep square shaft in the rock called "Jacob's 
Well," at the bottom of which two patient mules toiled 
at raising water. We stood upon the rampart over which 
Emim Bey made his frightful leap in the massacre of 
the Mamelukes, but none of these things could move 
us as did the matchless prospect itself — the one thing 
which it is worth while going to the citadel again and 
again to see. 

The "Superb Mosque," as it is called, of Sultan Hassan 
is but a few steps from the citadel, and, in its age and 
faded splendor, contrasts sharply with its more elegant 
neighbour of alabaster on the opposite height. It is 
built of brown stone and in massive proportions. It is 
famed for its own peculiar style of beauty and it was this 
mosque whose architect lost his hand by order of the Sul- 
tan lest he should sometime construct another like it. 
We entered its court one Friday morning through the 
great unrivalled gateway and found ourselves in an im- 
mense stone-paved enclosure, with the sky for a ceiling 
and a large fountain in the centre, around which pigeons 
and various smaller birds were merrily disporting. 
Through this court we obtained admission into the mosque 
itself. Its massive walls are dark and sombre, even 
gloomy, and time has written histories upon them. The 
old texts from the Koran, made of the branches and twigs 
of trees, running high overhead, were cracked and broken 
in their hoary age ; while on the floor in front of us still 
lingered the dark stains of a Sultan's blood, one who had 
been slain by a mob within these sacred precincts and 
buried but a few steps from where he fell. The open 
space in front of this mosque has always been a favorite 
rallying point in the insurrections of the Cairenes, and 
many a Moslem rabble has surged to and fro around its 
vast portals. 



336 



Days in the East. 



The mosque of Amrou at old Cairo is one of the most 
ancient in Islam. Within its magnificent court, stand 
some three hundred columns or more, one of which has a 
history of its own. The story goes that this pillar once 
belonged in Mecca. When the Mosque of Amrou was 
built, the faithful of Cairo naturally desired some token 
from the chief cit} r of their faith. The Caliph Omar de- 
termined to give them this column and accordingly bade 
it betake itself at once to Cairo. Twice it refused, but 
the third time, bidding it depart in the name of the 
Prophet and striking it smartly with his whip, the refrac- 
tory pillar rose into the air and reappeared in the court of 
Amrou. There we saw it ourselves with our unbelieving 
eyes, and the plain mark of the lash still visible in the 
quivering stone. It is said that when the mosque of Am- 
rou falls, the spell of Mohammedanism will be forever 
broken. But there is small comfort in the tradition, un- 
less, indeed, an earthquake, or some other devastation 
should travel that way, for otherwise the Christian faith 
may have many long and wear}' years to wait for the 
decay of its powerful rival. But the religion of Christ has 
alread t y five centuries the start of that of Mahomet — and 
not far away from this mosque itself there is even a 
much older edifice — the little Coptic Church of S. Mary, 
the architectural model of all other Coptic churches. 
This had an existence even before Mahomet was born, 
and although it has no such livelj T pillar as that of Am- 
rou beneath its roof, it has a wonder of its own in the 
identical apartment in which Mary and her holy Child 
spent some of their weary days of banishment in Egypt. 

I had seen the dancing dervishes at Smyrna, and hav- 
ing now the opportunity of hearing the howling dervishes 
at Cairo, I went to their mosque one Friday afternoon 
for that purpose. There were an unusual number of 



Cairo and the Pyramids. 337 



strangers present on that da}', among them several cler- 
gymen of the English Church. The place of worship was 
small and its walls were hung with various skins and 
weapons. As at Smyrna, the dervishes began their zikr 
by taking their places in a circle around their leader, and 
commencing the same monotonous chant in low and gut- 
tural tones. Presently they removed their turbans and 
tarbushes and from the head of each man fell a long lux- 
uriant mass of hair which had, until then, been confined 
in coils beneath the fez. Taking their seats on the floor, 
cross-legged, they began to chant in louder accents, sway- 
ing their bodies back and forth with frantic zeal. Leap- 
ing to their feet, the leader began again with outstretched 
arms to whirl within the ring, until I myself grew fairly 
dizzy even at the sight. Each of his fanatical followers 
was now throwing his head backward and forward, his 
long dishevelled hair flying to and fro with each motion, 
in an exhausting frenzy , and with ejaculations so hoarse 
as to be indistinct. The tambourines and drums were 
now brought into play and the melancholy scene ap- 
proached its climax. Suddenly one, more frantic than 
the rest, with wild and bloodshot eyes, and flushed face, 
broke from the circle and lowering his head like a mad 
bull, dashed headlong against the wall. The recoil made 
him stagger, but he kept his feet. Retiring a few paces 
he again rushed forward as before and his head struck 
the wall with a dull heavy thump which almost brought 
him to the ground senseless. But he was already reeling 
backward for a third charge, when his companions a lit- 
tle less frenzied than himself, interfered and put an end 
for the time being, to these sickening attempts at self 
murder, for such, as T was assured, was the desire induced 
by this temporary religious craze. For my own part 



338 



Days in the East. 



I had, at last, had enough of the dervishes and their 
worship, and immediately took my departure. 

But we had not yet made the excursion to the pyra- 
mids — the daily sight of which from any elevated posi- 
tion in Cairo is a constant reproach to the traveler until 
he has visited them. So, one morning, we took our don- 
keys and our drivers and started out across the great 
bridge ere the sun yet shone upon the bosom of the 
might}' river. The mist lay thick upon plain and marsh, 
but there, as elsewhere, it was but the harbinger of a 
fine day. We alternately trotted and galloped along 
beneath the lebbeks — upon our lively little animals — and 
in the course of a couple of hours reached the foot of the 
great pyramid of Cheops. Here we found an ample ar- 
ray of Arabs drawn up to receive us with open mouths 
and open hands. We paid ten francs each to the sheikh 
for the privilege of both ascending and entering the 
pyramid, with the expectation beside, of an unlimited 
amount of gratuities to each of the half dozen men de- 
tailed to assist us in the undertaking. To this party of 
guides several more insisted on joining themselves, 
among them, u the doctor," who was to rub our legs when 
we reached the top ; and thus attended, we set off in 
good style. The climb, worse even than that of Vesu- 
vius, is a thing which may be imagined, but which I at 
least cannot describe. Suffice it to say, that we each 
had all the literal experience of Mr. Clemens over again. 
With an Arab holding each hand and another assisting 
behind, we went up ledge after ledge — each step a yard 
high — springing wearily over broken boulders and jagged 
corners of stone. Let him who climbs the great pyra- 
mid for the first time, learn how little he has realized its 
magnitude before ! At every five minutes of the ascent, 
we were obliged to sit down and rest, but not in peace. 



Cairo and the Pyi'amids. 339 



We had read that our lives might be in peril at such 
stopping places, unless we "satisfied" our importunate 
escorts ; but although the descent as we looked down 
upon it seemed little less sheer than that of a precipice, 
and was enough of itself to intimidate the nervous, our 
Arabs did not threaten to throw us headlong— a thing to 
be noted for the comfort of the apprehensive. That they 
*spent every moment of our breathing spells in loudly 
clamouring for backsheesh and attempting to palm off 
upon us spurious curiosities at a dozen times their value, 
goes without saying. That we each lost our temper and 
administered a rebuke more forcible than elegant, is a 
thing of equal certaint}\ But it purchased for us only a 
moment's respite. A man might as well expect to enjoy 
a bath among leeches as to appreciate the p3 T ramids in 
the company of its insatiable guides. After a hard strug- 
gle we at last gained the rock} 7 platform at the top and, 
indignantly spurning awa}' the medical humbug who was 
now ready to bestow his friction, we sat down beneath 
the flagstaff where the name of Jenny Lind lay deeply 
carved in a huge block at our feet. We were now in 
possession, though not undisputed of course, of a view 
on all sides which was as beautiful as it was unique, and 
as we looked we tried, albeit in vain, to think. 

Around us spread, in sharp contrast, fertility and verd- 
ure, riches and poverty, life and death. Looking up 
the majestic river meandering along through its emerald 
valley, we had on our right the vast wavy sea of Libj'an 
sand ; on our left, as well as behind and in front of us, 
was the fairest and most fertile reach of country I have 
ever seen — a land in which there is no lack of anything 
at the hands of nature, where a balmy air ever fills the 
soft sky, and wintry days are like a pleasant dream. 
Here man, the only blemish in the picture, sits lazily and 



34° 



Days in the East. 



lounges and trusts for food to Allah and his own fertile 
sod. Around hirn he has in full view the temples and 
pyramids at which he never looks, the proud memorials 
of an infinitely nobler race than that which has now en- 
tered into its ancient inheritance. On one of the might- 
iest of these we ourselves were sitting ; one of those 
gigantic structures in whose history time itself becomes a 
span. "All else fears time, but time fears the pyra- ' 
raids," says the Arab thinker, and truly, spite of the de- 
spoiler's hand, no grander victor over the decay of ages 
rises from the surface of the earth. This pyramid of 
Cheops was begun when its builder himself began his 
reign, five thousand years ago, and was finished in time 
to become his place of burial. But, as if to mock hu- 
man pride, the gorgeous sepulchre, long since stripped 
of its shining marble casing, is now an immense moun- 
tain of grey, unsightly blocks to which distance only 
lends enchantment ; while the royal mummy itself now 
lies in the museum at Boulak, a black, dry, shrivelled 
thing, at whose command a hundred thousand slaves 
once leaped into action. 

But all this time we have been distracted by the re- 
peated pesterings of our loquacious guides, who have 
been telling us in English, French, German and Arabic 
of how Mark Twain, besides giving twenty-five sover- 
eigns for backsheesh, had richly paid one of our lithe at- 
tendants for going down the great pyramid and up the 
pyramid of Chephren, whose sides all the rest of the 
Arabs with one consent, confessed that they themselves 
dare not scale. This man, conspicuous for daring, was 
bound to bring us each, for a generous consideration, a 
pie'ce of marble from the top of Chephren, but we were 
too much annoyed by his impertinence to listen to his 
offer. Yet I am not sure but that we should have done 



Cairo and the Pyramids. 341 



so, had we at that time been familiar, as we neither of 
us were, with " The New Pilgrim's Progress." I have 
since read the description of the author's visit to the pyr- 
amids and in it I have recognized all my old friends of 
Cheops, general and particular, and I commend the chap- 
ter to those who wish a picture of a tourist's experiences, 
whose vividness and truth cannot be excelled. 

Getting down more rapidly, but with hardly fewer 
aches and pains than attended our ascent, we addressed 
ourselves to the task of entering the .pyramid. Already 
exhausted and fatigued as we were, this seemed hardly 
less formidable than the other. But our retainers, scent- 
ing the piastres, were not willing to give us a moment's 
rest, which we nevertheless took, in defiance of their im- 
portunities. After a meagre interval the candles were 
lighted and down we went, one after another, into the 
darkness, alternately sliding and walking over the smooth 
inclined plain of stone which forms the floor of the 
square vaulted passage. After a descent of some yards 
in this direction, the passage began to rise, calling into 
action the reverse set of our weary muscles. At last, 
after passing the mouth of a deep, dark well into which 
one of our Arabs was ready to descend if he could be 
guaranteed a proper fee, but an achievement which noth- 
ing could have hired us to stop to witness in that foul air, 
we entered a horizontal passage through which we gained 
admission into the Chamber of the King. This is an apart- 
ment in the heart of the pyramid, seventeen by thirty-four 
feet, and with a ceiling nineteen feet high, which could 
be seen only by means of fragments of lighted paper 
A glance or two was enough, however, and retracing our 
steps as fast as we could, passing remorselessly by the 
Chamber of the Queen, we were glad to stand again, 
panting and dripping with perspiration, in the open air. 



34 2 Days in the East. 



We settled our dues and paid a reasonable amount of 
bonnemain. and then, closely followed by an insatiable 
and voracious crowd which we tried in vain to appease, 
walked slowly around the base of the pyramid toward the 
Sphinx, still keeping its mute strange watch over the 
half buried remnants of its ancient temple. It is the sole, 
sad inhabitant of its lonely sands. The altar which once 
stood beneath its breast no longer sends up the sweet 
savour into those gigantic nostrils. But the Sphinx itself 
remains, looking out, as ever of old, with tranquil, stony 
eyes, upon the aged past of Historj' and the human race. 
That strange brown form of granite has seen what no 
other image, shaped by human hands, has witnessed ; 
but there is no opinion on that earnest face. You cannot 
say whether, in the light of all it knows, it considers hu- 
man life worth living. There is no sarcasm, no triumph, 
no plaudit, no sneer. These chiseled features are non- 
committal. The Sphinx has watched and waited for scores 
upon scores of generations. It seems content to do so, 
in the mildness of its patience, even to the end. 

One day, as a pendant to our trip to the pyramids, we 
made the excursion to Heliopolis the On of Scripture. 
There is nothing now left of the ' ; city of the sun," except 
the famous obelisk of which every one has heard, and this 
stands at a distance of about six miles from Cairo, in the 
borders of the land of Goshen. In spite of the difficul- 
ties thrown in the way by our American Guide, we made 
the journey very pleasantly on donkey-back in a single 
short afternoon and yet had a full half hour at the obelisk. 
There it still stands, on the lonely and deserted site of 
the ancient city, the fields of grain around it growing over 
the graves of two great battle-fields, for here are bloody 
memories alike of Selim and of Kleber. That aged pillar 
— what a tale might it not utter, had it but a tongue, a 



Cairo and the Pyramids. 343 



tale uninscribed in annals, and unsung in verse, of mighty 
dead and of the frailty of human fortunes ! The sun 
daily gilded its reverend head, even when Plato was a 
student almost beneath its shadow. Doubtless, it looked 
down benignly and pronounced its silent benediction up- 
on the nuptials of Joseph and the daughter of the chief 
priest. It was already brown with age when Moses slow- 
ly led the hosts of emancipated Israelites toward the wa- 
ters of the Red Sea. Once it was the monarch of a great 
group of like monuments, long since disappeared, and 
over whose former sites it has long had a solitary reign. 
The other emblems of the great light have been consigned 
to darkness and oblivion, but here is one yet left to show 
us how conspicuous was the grandeur of Sun-worship in 
the cradle of human religions. 

We lingered for a while in the vicinity of the obelisk 
and then visited the aged tree, not far away, within whose 
hollow trunk the Virgin and her child sought refuge from 
their foes. While here secreted, as the legend affirms, a 
spider artfully spun his web across the mouth of the cav- 
ity and thus effectually concealed from their enemies the 
mother and her Divine Child. 

We spent another day or two in Cairo, threading the 
bazars, or riding on the patient and reliable Egyptian don- 
keys, "Ginger" and "Mark Twain," along the fashion- 
able Shoobra road. Here, beneath the shade of rich and 
luxuriant lebbeks, the Turkish ladies of high rank roll along 
a drive which is always kept smooth and clean by ever 
busy brooms. But the more interesting streets were the 
more ancient ones, winding like a complete network in 
and through and out of Mohammedan Cairo. A native 
fair with its sea of swarthy faces, and white turbans, the 
tall stalwart Nubians with scarred and sooty cheeks, and 
jewels in their ears, a Moslem funeral with its forlorn 



344 Days in the East. 



chant and coffin borne aloft on unsteady shoulders, the 
cross-legged scribe, glancing anxiously side wise and wait- 
ing for employment for his pen and books, the donkey 
drivers vociferating their characteristic shouts of "Shu- 
mdlak !" "Riglak!" "Yeminak !" in the ears of gaping 
and incautious pedestrians, the picturesque runners in 
their light, Attic dress preceding the carriages of the opu- 
lent, the women of the middle class mounted on donkeys 
of remarkable docility and entirely enveloped in an ample 
vesture of silk, with the edges brought over the head and 
held close under the chin, its folds meanwhile inflated by 
the passing wind to the proportions of a small balloon — 
these were some of the lively and now familiar features 
of Oriental streets whose atmosphere and characteristics 
are nowhere more unmixed than in the older parts of 
Cairo. 

And now for me the time of departure had come. Gif- 
ford was to remain a day or two longer and then go di- 
rectly to Venice. The steamer for Naples was to leave 
on the approaching Saturday. The remaining sights of 
the city were too hastily "done" to make it worth while 
to try to describe them. The list embraced the tombs of 
the Mamelukes, and of the Caliphs with their Curie legends, 
rising, parched and brown, from fields of sun-scorched 
sand. It included the island of Rhoda with its famous 
Nilometer, and the place where Thermusis, the daughter 
of Pharaoh, found }x>ung Moses. Neither did we forget 
old Bab-en-Nasr, that venerable gate, with its massive 
doors from whose top once roared the cannon of Napo- 
leon. At last our work of sight-seeing was something 
like complete. GifTord settled down to a day or two of 
sober employment with his brush and I to the necessary 
preparations for departure. 



ROMEWARD BOUND. 



It was a Friday morning on which I said a final good- 
bye to my friend Gilford and seated myself in the train 
for Alexandria. I am not fond of Egyptian railwa}~s. 
They are among the worst in the world, beyond all dis- 
pute. But at any rate, the day was fair and the land 
lovely. We jolted along at no very rapid rate through 
fertile fields and soil so rich that it seemed almost able 
to produce a spontaneous harvest. Every now and then 
we ran, as before, past miserable villages some of them 
grouped together on islets little larger than themselves, 
and apparently without any means of issue save by boat 
or wading. Beneath their low walls the idle fellahin 
sat and lounged and smoked in the sunshine, looking as 
grim and solemn as troglodytes. At last, toward the 
close of the afternoon, we came upon a landscape whose 
conformation signified the nearness of the sea. The 
green meadows began to recede before sand-bars and 
lagoons. Farther on appeared a villa or two, suggestive 
not of Egypt, but western Europe. And, in the course 
of some fifteen or twenty minutes, we ran into the sta- 
tion of the ancient half-Europeanized city itself where 
the Pharos threw its rays across the sea and Alexander's 
ashes found a sepulchre. 

I leaped into the omnibus of the Hotel Abbot and was 
soon ushered into the quiet seclusion of a cosy chamber. 



346 



Days in the East. 



After removing the stains of travel I went below into the 
garden where I found my friend, Mr. Robertson, eagerly 
devouring the latest newspaper. I was delighted to learn 
that I was to be a fellow passenger of himself and wife 
on the " Arabia" of the Rubattino line which was to sail 
for Naples earl}' on the following morning. My time in 
Alexandria was therefore short and its meagre sights 
must be quickly seen. Enquiring the general direction 
of the interesting monument called "Pompey's pillar," I 
set out in random mood, caring less to reach it in a hurry 
than to gather up as I went, whatever might be worth 
the taking in the streets of the city. But Alexandria is 
not intensely interesting. It has no character. The Ori- 
ental and the European have divided it between them, 
half and half. The battered houses in sundry streets 
spoke eloquently of the ravages of recent wars, as did 
also the dismantled forts and scattered guns that fringe 
the edges of its harbor. The armed tread of the High- 
lander and the clatter of English cavalry, were heard 
even then in the city squares, while, between the pauses 
of martial music, men questioned one another concern- 
ing El Mahdi. 

"Pompey's pillar," it is said, never had any thing to 
do with Pompey. It was raised to the honor of Diocle- 
tian who once appeared in arms under the city walls. 
The column is a magnificent shaft of solid stone, soaring 
broadly into the air from among the masses of broken 
sculptures which loosely lie around. It is the only thing 
in Alexandria, so far as my own observations went, that 
can claim the travelers notice on the united grounds of 
antiquity and inherent grandeur. 

The next morning was dull and lowering. Visions of 
rough seas and distressing ailments flitted before us, but, 
triumphant over all, was the prospect of soon setting 



Romeward Bound. 



347 



foot once more on European soil. We got off immedi- 
ately after breakfast, were driven to the wharf, bribed, 
unnecessarily, through the custom house, rowed to the 
waiting steamer and noted down by the purser as we 
passed through the gangway as u tre per Napoli" 
Meanwhile the weather steadily deteriorated and when, 
two hours afterward, we were clear of the harbor, as 
stormy-looking an horizon as ever I saw greeted our anx- 
ious vision. But the bark of the elements was worse 
than the bite. The open sea was not so smooth as we 
might have wished, but still the vessel was steady enough 
to admit of our going down to dinner with keen .appe- 
tites, and staying there till our hunger was fully ap- 
peased. 

In all, there were but seven cabin passengers — a merry 
little group — I had almost said a family — every one of 
whom spoke English fluently. Besides the Robertsons 
and nryself there were Mr. and Mrs. Decker and daugh- 
ter of San Francisco, and Fraulein Schrader of Dresden. 
The most enjoyable thing about our voj'age, as is the case 
I think with all trans-marine trips, was our companionship. 
At the end of the passage there was the almost certain 
prospect of quarantine, and it was cheering to think that ' 
our detention would not be without its social solaces. 

The voyage was tedious, however, and uneventful, and 
the boat itself was no beauty, either without or within. 
The wind and rain and gurgling waves sang their dismal 
refrain day and night. On the third day we passed, like 
Paul, close to the island of Crete, and feasted oar eyes 
for an hour or two on delightful contrasts of color — blue, 
grey and white. Out of the sea spray sprang the rough 
rock-walls, above which shone the snow-clad hills of the 
famous isle. Dazzling was the lustre that leaped from 
their white mantles beneath the morning sun. The mem- 



348 Days in the East. 



ories of Midas and the Minotaur, of Theseus and the 
lovely Ariadne rose to mind and stimulated conversation. 
On the fifth day we saw the shores of Sicily, with the 
huge, bold outline of ^Etna, the "forge of Vulcan," and 
the 44 giant's prison, ' ; dim and indefined in the morning 
mist. The volcano, shrouded with snow half way down 
from the summit, was said to be unusually active, a fact 
of which we saw signs as the day advanced, but for an 
hour only, as we soon passed out of view into the straits 
of Messina. No pause was made, for quarantine for- 
bade. We kept steadily on our wa}' through the azure 
water, the small sails dancing around us and the gulls 
flocking in our rear. With our perspective glasses we 
carefully examined the shores as we proceeded up the 
straits, descrying grim water-gorges, alternating with 
green and fertile patches, and picturesque little towns 
which the grand hills either held in their bosoms, or 
made room for at their feet. Yonder was Rhegium, or 
Reggio, quite as old as Rome — the little city which once 
saw a modest vessel bearing in S. Paul upon the curling 
wave. And then Messina, a lovely town on the 
Sicilian shore, and favored with the especial protection 
of the Virgin. Presently we rose and went eagerly for- 
ward, for there, just in front of us, were the famous 
Scylla and Charybdis, the silent rock and harmless rapid, 
between which we slowly steamed and were none the 
worse. We were now once more in the open sea, and it 
was already nightfall when we found ourselves leaping 
from crest to crest of the long rolling swells abreast of 
superb Stromboli. This magnificent island volcano rises 
abruptly from the sea, like a genuine monarch of the 
wave, with head in the clouds and feet upon the tides, 
always belching forth alternate wind and fire. It is no 
wonder that the ancients made it the throne of Aeolus 



Romeward Bound. 349 



and the men of the middle age the door of Purgatory. 
There was hardly apparent room along its semi-perpen- 
dicular edges for a highway, but there, as everywhere, 
were the adventurous homes and hamlets of men who 
were not afraid to trust their fortunes between the flame 
and the wave. 

The next morning we were up early but not before Ca- 
pri was in sight. Our long absence was nearly at an end. 
There was but one cloud over the prospect and that was 
the quarantine. Yet even this could not abate, though 
it might overshadow, our joy. We were anxious, how- 
ever, to know the worst. So when we had passed through, 
between Capri and Sorrento, and in the noontide of a 
golden day dropped anchor in the beautiful bay, almost 
within the shadow of Vesuvius, we anxiously awaited the 
message which was to be sent us from the shore. At last 
it came, quarantine for five da}'s ! Bad enough, but it 
might have been worse. We might have been banished 
to the ugly and dismal lazzaretto. But luckily the cap- 
tain decided to take out his own quarantine at Naples, 
instead of Genoa and for fifteen francs a day, we had 
the privilege of remaining on board the vessel. Our com- 
pany might have been uncomfortably numerous and cos- 
mopolitan. As it was, it was ver} T enjoj^able in every 
sense. We sent ashore for our letters and papers, of 
which we each received a generous accumulation, albeit 
they were left timidly on the lower steps of the gangway 
and the receipts for them had to be thrown into the wa- 
ter. We settled down to endure it, as best we could. 
But time, like all else has an end, and so had our captiv- 
ity. The fifth day came and with it, a glad release. 
Early on the morning of the fourth of March, we were 
landed at Naples and on the same evening I lay down to 
refreshing slumber, of which there had been none in the 



35o 



Days in the East. 



narrow berths of the Arabia^ within the hospitable walls 
of the Hotel oV Allemagne at Rome. 

"Heaven's best boon to the traveler," says Dr. Peabody, 
•4s the presenting power of memory." Were it not for 
this, all travel would lose its charm. The pleasure is too 
evanescent, if you eliminate the power of retrospection. 
The true delight comes long after the actual experience, 
and it comes free from all the myriad annoyances and 
mishaps which no traveler yet, however shrewd and ex- 
perienced, is skillful enough wholly to avoid. Fancy, 
free to choose the fair and leave the foul, draws her pic- 
tures in colors unalloyed, as you throw yourself after din- 
ner into your easy chair and pick up the novel, magazine, 
or newspaper of whose scenes and allusions you can say 
in secret: Ci How much more vivid these things become 
in the light of my own recollections !" 

Foreign travel is an investment which will pay sure 
and life-long returns, if one only puts brains into it along 
with his time and money. The more you carry out in 
the way of information and power to observe, the more 
you are certain to bring home again and it will stay with 
you ever afterwards. It is a powerful adjunct to a liber- 
al academic education. It has its own advantages of ac- 
tual sight and experience. And these are most keenly 
appreciated just after you have again settled down quiet- 
ly at home and the flush of the afterglow still suff tses 
your mental vision. 

But there are sacrifices to be made. A journey abroad 
sobers, and sometimes revolutionizes, thought. It applies 
rough reconstruction to our wrong ideas. It darkens our 
most delightful visions and scatters to the winds many a 
cherished conception. It takes away imagination and 
gives us reality. The sleepy little village seems utterlj- 
unworthy of the great favor which Nature has conferred 



Romeward Bound. 351 



upon it in making it the birthplace of some world-hero. 
The king s house and even the king's person, when we 
come to see them, are not so far above the houses and 
persons of ordinary mortals as to call forth the unlimited 
admiration and deference which we, who knew not kings 
and palaces, would have thought ourselves willing to be- 
stow. The famous battle-field with its prosy hedges and 
ill-cultivated patches proves to be the most unimpressive 
portion of the landscape. The lovely city, after seeing 
which it has been told us that a man may cheerfully make 
up his mind to die, is found to be beautiful, but by no 
means so charming as to abridge within us the desire of 
life lest we should sometime look upon a tamer scene. 
We come home disappointed, but feeling that after all it 
is better to have seen the real and the true and to have 
gotten rid of the ideal and uncertain. 

These reflections apply with emphasis to that portion 
of the Orient with which our little volume is chiefly con- 
cerned — the land of the Bible. The afterglow of our East- 
ern journey shows many a precious treasure by which, as 
by a new light, we shall read God's word more clearly 
and easily than ever before; but it also shows, lying 
around us, the wreck of many a fancj r picture ruthlessly 
destroyed . We knew that the country which cradled the 
Christian religion was small, but we scarcely expected to 
see so much of it from a single hill-top three thousand 
feet high. We knew that the land was almost hopeless- 
ly under Mohammedan, and therefore semi-barbarous, 
control, but we hardly expected to see the dear old cities 
and towns of Scripture mere congregations of huts and 
hovels, reeking with noisomeness and inhabited largely by 
the leprous, the sore-eyed and the lame. We knew that 
the land no longer flowed with milk and honey, but we 
were not prepared to find it, as a whole, so bare and des- 



352 



Days in the East. 



olate that we look in Tain throughout the entire range of 
our travels on four continents for a parallel that is not 
absolutely a desert. We knew that there were Jews and 
Christians who loved to dwell upon ground consecrated 
by the bodily presence of the world's Redeemer, but it 
was a painful revelation to behold the descendants of ven- 
erable and learned Rabbis in the deformed and sickly 
looking idlers of Jerusalem and Tiberias and to see the 
quarreling members of the Church Catholic bound over 
to keep the peace among themselves by the constant pres- 
ence of the Turkish sword. Suspecting such things as 
these, there are those who have preferred to tarry at home, 
though not because they wanted either time or money. 
They chose rather to maintain unbroken, the spell under 
which their own love and reverence still enables them to 
dwell upon Scripture scenes. 

Nevertheless, it is better to have known and seen it all. 
The things which at first sight disturb are those which 
afterward only strengthen our faith. If we have formed 
wrong impressions, it can surety do us no good to retain 
them. The very unattractiveness of the Holy Land en- 
hances the value of its sublime associations. It proves 
how independent of the places, even of its birth and nour- 
ishment, is the heart religion of our God. Nature may 
be made ancillary to the systems of men ; the teachings 
of the Master needs' no extraneous aids. As I stood 
among the loose and broken stones which now litter the 
mouth of Jacob's well, with Gerizim before me, toward 
which Christ and the woman once looked, she saying 
4 'our fathers worshiped in this mountain" and He giv- 
ing that answer which made Gerizim of as little import- 
ance, for purposes of worship, as some random peak of 
the Alps or Andes — I saw, as I never saw before, that 
our religion is not for Palestine, but for the world ; not 



Romeward Bound. 



353 



for a single bosom, but for the world's great heart. It is 
for all time and every place, and it therefore matters not 
in what corners of the world it had its birth. This reflec- 
tion consoles amid uncertainty and degradation. This 
even alleviates the shame with which the Christian pil- 
grim sees, with his own eyes, the truth of the poet's lines : 

"On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, 
On Sion's hill the false one's votaries pray." 

and beholds the ragged red flag, with its star and cres- 
cent, floating over the tower of David. 

So we conclude that it is a good thing to have been 
among the realities. We can never read the Bible quite 
as we did before. We have thrown away our fancies. We 
shall not want to think of modern Bethlehem as we read 
the story of the Birth. We shall thrust far out of sight 
the Bethany of to-day when we ponder over the history 
of Lazarus and his sisters. But it is something with 
which we would not part to have stood upon many a spot 
once pressed by the Saviour's sacred feet, to have climbed 
the slopes of grey old Olivet, and to have stood in the 
morning twilight on the shores of Galilee. We shall tr}' 
to banish from memory, the land itself, as we have, too 
vividly, perhaps, described it, and yet love its associations 
all the more because we have seen it in its length and 
breadth. And never, at any rate, shall we regret that 
from Greece all the way around to Egypt, we w r ere per- 
mitted to muse, even among wrecks and remnants, over 
the great things of human history, or cease to enjoy the 
precious memories which now hallow every one of our 
delightful Days in the East. 



